Rediscovery
by fair01will
Summary: Sequel to Acknowledgement. One day, we will all die. One day, we will all cease to exist. But that's one day. Hermione finds out that one day may come sooner than they've all expected but at the same time she has to deal with the greatest loss she has ever suffered. She has to remember though, that the darkest hour is just before the dawn. And sun will always come up... Part 2/3
1. Chapter 1

"How long has she stared out of that window?" Ron asked him quietly as he observed the pale girl sitting on a chair by the high, churchlike windows. She didn't move, and he was sure that she wasn't even blinking. However, he still could detect the gentle rise and fall of her chest, she was breathing.

"A few days, they wouldn't tell me what's wrong with her when she…" Harry whispered to his friend but couldn't finish the sentence, his throat hoarse and eyes red. They didn't talk about what had happened at the Ministry. Ron, he – he understood. Ron understood why Harry faked him being asleep and why he refused to take him along. He was even a little bit grateful for it because he didn't have to fight Merlin knows how many Deatheaters. On the other hand he could have helped. Sirius didn't had to fall under the wand of Bellatrix Lestrange.

"I would advise you, Potter, to go back to your dormitory before I decide that Gryffindor should be in negative numbers at the end of the year." A deep, hard voice startled them out of their wits. The dungeon bat master walked through the double doors that led to the Hogwarts Infirmary with his usual blasé yet disturbing manner, his black robes very swishing around his ankles.

The boys didn't have to be told twice that they were unwelcomed. Ever since the Battle of the Department of Mysteries it seemed as if something snapped inside their Potion Master which made them do exactly as he wished. It was creepy, the effect the change in him had on them. Even though Harry wanted to stay a little longer, he knew it was no use. Since Poppy was currently at St. Mungo's doing Merlin knows what, Snape was in charge of the Infirmary.

Harry tried talking to her, saying he was sorry, but she didn't even acknowledge he was there. It was as if she wasn't there at all. And that made the hole in his heart even greater.


	2. A State of Shock

"How long has she stared out of that window?" Ron asked him quietly as he observed the pale girl sitting on a chair by the high, churchlike windows. She didn't move, and he was sure that she wasn't even blinking. However, he still could detect the gentle rise and fall of her chest, she was breathing.

"A few days, they wouldn't tell me what's wrong with her when she…" Harry croaked not being able to finish the sentence he started. His throat was hoarse and eyes red. They didn't talk about what had happened at the Ministry. Ron, he – he understood. Ron understood why Harry faked him being asleep and why he refused to take him along. He was even a little bit grateful for it because he didn't have to fight Merlin knows how many Deatheaters. On the other hand he could have helped. Sirius didn't have to fall under the wand of Bellatrix Lestrange.

"I would advise you, Potter, to go back to your dormitory before I decide that Gryffindor should be in negative numbers at the end of the year." A deep, hard voice startled them out of their wits. The dungeon bat master walked through the double doors that led to the Hogwarts Infirmary in his usual blasé yet disturbing manner, his black robes were swishing around his ankles.

The boys didn't have to be told twice that they were unwelcomed. Ever since the Battle of the Department of Mysteries it seemed as if something snapped inside their Potion Master which made them do exactly as he wished. It was creepy, the effect the change in him had on them. Even though Harry wanted to stay a little longer, he knew it was no use. Since Poppy was currently at St. Mungo's doing Merlin knows what, thus leaving Snape in charge of the Infirmary.

Harry tried talking to her, saying he was sorry, that he didn't know… but she didn't even acknowledge he was there. It was as if she wasn't there at all. And that made the hole in his heart even greater.

He regretted not listening to her. He was consumed by guilt and he couldn't get rid of that wretched feeling. And he needed her to tell him that everything was going to be all right.

But she didn't and probably never would. It made him realise maybe for the first time in his short life that it really was _not _going to be _all right…_ And he had to admit that Snape was right. Life was not fair. Life was not gentle. And it was never ever forgiving.

Dumbledore told him about the prophecy, even apologised for his behaviour this year. Harry would have scoffed at him if the happenings of that night weren't replaying right in front of his eyes over and over again.

He would have to be the one to kill Voldemort in the end. Only he could do it… Did it surprise him? Probably not. Harry – He was still in too much of a shock from losing his Godfather to think about the Prophecy.

The Headmaster asked for his memory of the night and Harry gave it to him. He knew that if Hermione had heard about this things would have gotten nasty. For some reason she didn't like their Headmaster as much as he did. Not right now, mind you, right now Harry didn't know what to think about the white bearded man.

But he liked him, and above all he respected him. But from the way Hermione talked about Dumbledore he could clearly see that there was something amiss, something for which she detested the old but powerful wizard.

Harry had hoped just for a little that giving the memory to his Headmaster would mean that he didn't have to think about it anymore. That it would somehow vanish from his mind.

"What do you need it for?" He had asked the Headmaster who had returned to his rightful post just moments ago. But the Headmaster did not give him answer to his question, only put his wand against Harry's temple and the memory flowed and got sucked into his knotted wand in a silvery, white-blue mist.

Much to his surprise, he still remembered it.

Umbridge had gone completely crazy, refusing to stay in an enclosed room for more than five minutes and her sudden claustrophobia caused the 'escape' of their torturer in pink. She ran out of the castle straight into the forest. And from then on, nobody had ever heard of her again. They all hoped that she would never resurface. Some showed their opinion of that woman very publicly, some of them joined in secretly. Of one thing they were all astonishingly certain. She would never be able to push through with her bigoted ideas again, they all thought naïvely.

Harry wanted to ask Hermione how she accomplished that Dolores Umbridge ended up completely mad. An incredible feat but alas, Hermione was still… too catatonic to tell him.

Harry didn't know what brought his best friend, his sister into such state.

He tried asking, he tried begging, but all they would tell him was "Miss Granger needs some time to rest". He began to doubt that even the most skilful matron he had ever seen knew what was wrong with her. No person just ceases to - to exist after a night of – well, what they had gone through. Or so he thought…

What Harry didn't know was that Hermione was in a state of shock. A normal occurrence in the muggle world but in the wizarding they knew next to nothing about it. It had been three days since the night at the Ministry. But for Hermione, time became just an ever-changing number meaning absolutely nothing.

When she arrived, somewhat calmed by Lupin, she was determined that she would not let this 'incident' cripple her. So with her head held high, she went to the Headmasters office even though she should have gone to the Infirmary instead.

Right after she entered his office he ushered her towards his table where she sat down on the plush seat he had conjured for her.

"Ah Miss Granger, lovely to see you" he said cheerfully. Hermione felt anything but and couldn't understand how the Headmaster could behave in such a way. 'He looks as if he had just eaten a pound of chocolate ice-cream…' Hermione thought. 'His eyes are twinkling!' she was enraged by the old man. 'How can he act like this when someone from the Order just died?' she asked herself, refusing to name that someone who had died that evening.

"Yes Headmaster, lovely indeed. You sent a note with Mr. Lupin that you required my assistance with something?" Hermione inquired politely but arrogantly.

"Yes, Yes… You see Miss Granger, from what I heard it seems that you managed to _somehow_ overpower two Deatheaters, is that true?" the Headmaster's eyes twinkled like mad behind his half-moon glasses.

"I think you got that wrong Headmaster" Hermione answered "It _did _happen so I have no idea why it would only _seem _like it happened. And I did _manage _to overpower two Deatheaters. As for how, tell me Headmaster, how does that concern you?" Hermione concluded while leaning back against soft back of the chair, her wand being rolled between her fingers.

Last time she was here she was being threatened by the Minister. Since then, she had to suffer through Umbridge's torture and… Not completing the thought she looked straight into those blue eyes. She had this commanding presence to her, which seemed so alien and yet so truly _her _at the same time.

If the Headmaster was perturbed by her behaviour he didn't show it in the slightest. "I need your memory of the night" he said as if he was casually talking about the weather.

Hermione raised her brow at that. "Could you say that again, _Headmaster_? I didn't quite catch that…"

"Well of course, my dear girl, I would need your memory of that night, the fight you had with the Lestrange brothers to be precise." Dumbledore said again, with a friendly smile on his face that should have persuaded her to give him her memory without any fuss. But well, Hermione wouldn't just hand out her memories like an advertisement leaflet. And she was no one's dear girl.

"I don't think so, Headmaster. You do not need to see the memory. However, if the Auror department is in the need of it, well, they can come and I'll give it to them." Hermione concluded, not willing to change her mind.

Dumbledore looked at her, his eyes calculating.

A year ago, she might have looked away, she might have succumbed to the power he was suddenly emitting and do as he told her to. But that would have happened a year ago.

Today, she was a very tired seventeen-year-old witch, powerful enough to destroy what he called his office with just one swish of her wand (not that she knew that yet) and she had singlehandedly killed two Deatheaters from Voldemort's inner circle. That gave her the willpower to stand her own. She wouldn't let them tell her what to do, let alone Albus Dumbledore.

"If it is all Headmaster, my leg is bleeding and I suppose Madam Pompfrey wouldn't appreciate it much if I bleed out in your office." She got up to leave and was already at the door when the Headmaster exclaimed dejectedly. "This is from the Department of Magical Reinforcement" with that he pointed at two heavy looking leather money pouches.

Walking back towards the table she grabbed the pouches. She was surprised how light they were 'Must be a feather-light charm' she thought as she skilfully bound the two pouches together by the strings that kept them closed.

"Thank you" she said and walked out of the Headmaster's office, not bothering with any polite farewell or wished of good night.

The wound on her leg was beginning to open up so she hurried along the corridors paying attention not to put much weight on her injured leg. She reached the Hospital Wing in no time. As soon as she entered the Infirmary, Madam Pompfrey rushed to her side and practically dragged her toward one of the beds.

"Oh Merlin, what did you lot get into!" Poppy lamented "But we'll get you fixed up in no time. You'll just have to stay here overnight. Your leg will be as good as new in the morning." The school matron spoke to herself rather than to Hermione who was patiently sitting on the iron cot with a soft mattress.

"Drink this, it will ease the pain" Madam Pompfrey handed her a vial of Pain Relieving potion coloured in its distinct light yellow hue.

Gulping it down quickly, Hermione lay down, not caring about her attire. Snuggling into her cloak, which managed to get out of this ordeal in one peace she succumbed to the tiredness that wanted to consume her.

_His deranged cousin was standing twenty or so feet in front of him and was currently casting every curse and hex possible, only to be met with his strong shield. But he was becoming careless with it and had to duck so a jet of red light wouldn't hit him. He laughed at her. "Come on, you can do better than that" he yelled, wanting to provoke her. _

_However, the second jet of red light hit him square in the chest. A cackle, the distinct Bellatrix's cackle left a vibrating feeling in his ears._

_He was frozen, falling back, back not realising he would never hit the ground. The only thought before the never-ending darkness consumed and smothered him was 'Shadow, I…'._

_And then there was nothing. His magic dissolved in the strangeness and from everything became nothing. _

Hermione woke up with a start. For a moment, just a moment, she basked in the sweet oblivion that is the moment right after you wake up. For split of second she was unaware of where she was or why. Her vision was blurry, seeing nothing but light purplish light coming from the window behind her. But her vision cleared in a nanosecond, as did her memory. It felt like snapping your fingers to turn something on. Her memory was as clear as day. And just like that, so easily it hurt, she recalled the dream she just had.

Was it a dream? It didn't seem like it. It felt as if it was a snippet of his conscience binding itself to hers as a last attempt to keep on existing. But the pull of the Veil was too strong and even such a strong bond as the two of them had couldn't overcome the power of the Veil.

Hermione wasn't able to lie on her bed anymore. She had to move, she had to get rid of the rawness of the feeling. She experienced it herself just a minute ago, what it felt like to fall endlessly while your whole being concentrated on only one feeling. The feeling of being wrenched from the existence of the world. The feeling of utter desolateness. The feeling and surge of endless love.

Closing her eyes, she tried to squeeze the image of Bellatrix Lestrange's maniacal expression away. She tried to push back the face of the deranged woman's husband, his eyes that feared her. She tried to push it all back behind. But she wasn't able to do so. Image after image, it was replaying before her eyes over and over again. And it wasn't going to stop.

Stumbling to the side, she grabbed hold of a wooden chair that was positioned behind her bed and sat down. Her gaze was turned towards the school grounds and the rising sun.

If her mind wasn't so preoccupied with those horrifying images, she might have enjoyed looking at what was right before her eyes. Just a glimmer of bright orange peaked over the horizon, emerging from the mist coming off the mountains at each side of the Black Lake. The purplish hue of the light in such early hours changed to light pink and slowly, as the sun ascended upon the summer-day sky, the early morning clouds shined in orange and red tones.

It was a magnificent view. But Hermione saw none of that. Her mind was refusing to work. She succumbed to the state it threw her in. She didn't feel the pain caused by her sitting so long in one position. Red light and a terrifying cackle. That was all there was for her now. A state of shock.

'_Shadow, I…'_

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><p><strong>AN: So here's the first official chapter of part two. It is an incredible feeling. I finished one part, and what's more I actually stuck to one thing for over five months which is almost unbelievable. But enough about me... What do you think about this development? How do you think the story will go on? I would love to hear your opinions!**

**Thanks for reading and don't forget to review! :-) **


	3. Poppy Pomfrey's Domain

"How is she?" was the first thing a very flustered Poppy Pomfrey inquired about after she gracefully stepped out of the fireplace in a wake of flashing poisonous green flames.

"What do you think?!" Snape snapped at her, irritated by her question. He was not irritated by the school matron per se. No, he was annoyed by the fact that she would think that Hermione Granger had miraculously get out of her comatose state in a matter of hours when she spent the better part of the last four days staring out of that blasted window.

"Do not snap at me Severus Snape! The other teachers may be afraid of you… and rightly so. However they are oblivious to many things which I'm not, so do not take that tone with me young man!" Pomfrey scolded him like schoolboy. He didn't respond, only curled his lips into his trademark sneer.

"So?" Poppy prompted. "So What?" Snape caught himself from snarling at her. "How is she?" the school matron asked worriedly, glancing at the small figure sitting by the window. The girl was sitting in the exact same position for the last three days.

After the first day, she forcibly put Hermione on her bed and made her drink some of the Dreamless potion. But when she went to check on her during the night, the girl was sitting by the window like before and Poppy didn't attempt to put her to sleep again.

That's when she pulled Severus Snape into all of this mess. Their potion master was suspiciously quite the day after the group of four made their trip to the Department of Mysteries and she couldn't help but wonder why. When she floo-called him and he ignored her summon, she went down to the dungeons to see what was going on with him.

She was probably the only one of the whole Hogwarts personnel who wasn't afraid of their resident Potion Master. Having seen that boy covered in scars either from his father or from his Master Lord Voldemort did that to a person. Even through his sixth and seventh year when he fully immersed himself in the practising of the Dark Arts she still cared for him. That was the most brilliant thing about Poppy Pomfrey, even though someone seldom realised it.

She was there to care for her charges, she wasn't there to judge their life choices. Though she really liked to know things and made it her goal to _know about _what was going on. She didn't ask and she didn't disagree with whatever grotesque story her charges produced as a reason for their injuries. However she did observe, and very well at that.

True, she pestered them all when they spent time in her Hospital Wing but there wasn't anyone better than their Poppy and all of the students agreed on that. Severus Snape wasn't an exception. Though he would rather die than to admit that he had a soft spot for her as much as she did for him. She didn't pity and she didn't speculate. Unlike the meddlesome Hogwarts Headmaster.

However the opinion on their Hogwarts matron had nothing to do with current mood of one Severus Snape. He wasn't ignoring her on purpose. What kept him from answering her floo-call was his mind. He would have started to drink if he didn't abhor that stuff so much. Firewhiskey, a wicked potion of its own kind... No he was not getting drunk by the means of that honey-coloured liquid. He was thinking. He was trying to rationalise his feelings. And he did not do that. Ever.

Silly, wasn't it? Claiming that he was an emotionless monster who cared only about his potions when the opposite was the truth. If he cared only and solely about his potions he wouldn't have become a Death Eater, let alone a spy for the Order of the Phoenix.

He wouldn't have loved Lily Potter née Evans. He wouldn't have hated Potter's guts for fawning over the red-headed girl. He wouldn't have been afraid of Remus Lupin, he wouldn't have been paranoidly awaiting the moment the werewolf would attack him. And he certainly wouldn't be mulling over the fact that was Miss Hermione Granger losing her bond.

He couldn't help but feel guilty for Sirius's death and it annoyed and terrified the hell out of him. He had been too slow, he should have caught them before they managed to get to the Ministry by the floo network. He could have prevented Sirius from coming there to save them. He shouldn't have been so careless in informing the Order about the suicide mission the four teens were undertaking at that time. It was all what-if's and Severus Snape didn't want to wonder about the what-if's anymore.

He would take Lily's advice and he would stop pondering and wondering about what could have been. He would most certainly go crazy if he didn't.

Just as he decided on disciplining his mind and on concentrating on the now, a very agitated Poppy Pomfrey appeared in his private chambers. Since the woman was taking care of him after his many summons, he had altered the wards to let her in without him allowing it. And right now he was beginning to regret ever making that decision. He wouldn't be the snarky potion master if he didn't.

"What brings you to the dungeons Poppy?" he asked her, too tired to sound at least a bit peeved by the disruption of his peaceful decision-making.

"I may need your help with one of my patients…" the older woman said with a worrisome expression marring her face. He often wondered how old the woman was. He didn't doubt that she had to thank her charges for the amount of wrinkles on her face. He too had to admit that treating injured students wasn't much of a rewarding job. If _he _had to care for the dunderheads, nobody would survive it. However he was not unprofessional and from time to time the school matron came to him for advice and he gave it to the best of his ability.

"What potion do you need this time?" Severus asked her, thinking he would rather go straight to the point, no questions asked. But Poppy surprised him when she answered in the negative. "I don't need any potions, not yet at least. I'm in a need of your assistance. It would be much better to explain if you actually saw what I am talking about…" with that she turned around and strode back to the Hospital Wing knowing that Severus would follow her soon.

She was not mistaken and just moments after she arrived to her office by the Hospital Wing the double door to the Infirmary opened and in strode Professor Snape, his robes billowing and all.

"Now when I'm here, would you care to enlighten me as to what is the problem you seem to have?" he asked her in a politely 'impolite' tone.

The Infirmary was empty. Just one of the beds had crumpled covers and a notepad attached to the iron railing. Beside the bed was a wooden chair and a girl sitting on it. Her back was turned towards them, her dark brown almost black hair was cascading down her back in soft but pronounced waves.

"Hermione came in with a terrible gash on her leg which I managed to heal and I made her stay overnight. However in the morning, I found her sitting by the window. For a whole day she didn't even budge. It didn't seem like she was going to sleep so I got some Dreamless Sleeping draught into her. She was out in a matter of seconds. But when I came to check on her during the night, she was by the window again. She won't respond to anything. Do you know what may be wrong with her, Severus?"

Severus didn't have to think long to guess what was wrong with the only Gryffindor he was able to stand as a teacher. Could he tell Pomfrey? Probably not. "Give it a few days. I would say it is a shock from her night escapades" he said but the matron didn't fail to notice the worry that laced his tone.

She knew that there must be something the Potion Master was refusing to tell her and she was all right with that under only one stipulation. That it wasn't of consequence to the betterment of her patient. "And if she does not?" she asked glancing once more at the motionless body of a girl.

"Three days and if she doesn't come to herself we'll find someone who can bring her out of it…" he muttered and walked away.

Those three days were one of the most stressful for their school matron. Not only did she had to force away one Harry Potter every day, many times a day the be precise, she also had to worry about the girl he came to visit all the time. Her condition would not change and when it did, it were the noticeable dark circles under her eyes and paler skin that she has ever seen on the smartest Gryffindor so far.

Three days have come and gone and it was time Severus came up with something that didn't consist of waiting. Fortunately for him, he did come and Poppy didn't have to chase him out of his private potion lab, which would have been rather ugly considering his obsession with his 'quiet' working environment.

"Any change?" he asked without paltering. Both of them had learnt to go straight to the point in each other's presence along time ago. "No, it's the same. Dumbledore was here but he said and I quote 'Leave the girl be Poppy, her mind must come to understanding with what she did.' What _did _she do Severus?" she asked him and the determination in her eyes made him tell her what he knew. Almost all that is.

"From what I know she killed two Deatheaters. But I don't think that's why she's refusing to communicate with the world. I need you to find the twins" Snape said matter of factly.

"The Weasley twins?" Poppy asked while looking at him incredulously. "Yes the Weasley twins. I need to teach but after that I can look after the Infirmary for you." He said begrudgingly. He knew that the twins would down right refuse to help _him. _But if Poppy came, they wouldn't be so reluctant.

"What shall I tell them?" she asked him, already agreeing to leave the Infirmary in his hands during the evening. "Tell them that they should think about what happened during the night three days ago and the implications of that for one girl" Poppy looked at him oddly when he said that but didn't argue. Hoping that the twins would know what was going on (which was a very curious assumption to begin with) she went to the Headmaster to make some arrangements.

"Just don't tell him where you're really. He might have some – remarks" He drawled when she was at the door, his face set in a sour expression. Despite what everybody thought, the Headmaster was not omniscient and sometimes it was too easy to fool him. Like right now...

That evening he was the one to chase Harry Potter and his side-kick Weasley away. Even though he abhorred the former, he wasn't oblivious to the fact that he was suffering very much. Who wouldn't? He had just lost his only father-like figure, one of his only connections to the family he never got to know…

Poppy didn't tell the Headmaster the truth. Instead, she claimed she needed to pay a visit to St. Mungo's. Because of what? Who cares…? So she went twins hunting and promptly decided that next time, it would be Severus's turn to look for them.

The flames swivelled and in stepped a flustered Poppy Pomfrey "How is she?" she inquired.

"What do you think?!" Snape snapped at her, irritated by her question.

"Do not snap at me Severus Snape! The other teachers may be afraid of you… and rightly so. However they are oblivious to many things which I'm not, so do not take that tone with me young man!" Pomfrey scolded him like schoolboy. He didn't respond, only curled his lips into his trademark sneer.

"So?" Poppy prompted. "So What?" Snape caught himself from snarling at her. "How is she?"

"No Poppy nothing changed in the matter of hours you couldn't observe her like a hawk. Will they come?" He asked her, changing the subject.

The school matron pursed her lips. "If you weren't so vague, they might have been here already. Instead I had to convey your – I don't even know what to call it. They said they'll think it over and come as soon as they close their shop. Accidently, they didn't it feel necessary to tell me when that would be."

She was angry, very angry indeed. She strode towards her office to hang her traveling cloak there, aggravation seeping through her every step. When she came back Snape was still standing there and she couldn't help but interrogate him.

"Just tell me Severus how you think those two trouble-makers could help this poor dear?" she waved her hand in the direction Hermione was sitting. She didn't even attempt to talk quieter.

Severus Snape was in two minds about telling the school matron about his reasons. He was well aware of the fact that Miss Granger liked her secrets and it wasn't that long ago that Umbridge decided to air the girl's dirty laundry. True, she took it with her head held high but some of the rumours were simply terrible even he had to admit that. If it were him he would have hexed half the student body.

So after a minute of pondering, he decided against telling her what this was all about. "They will know. You'd be surprised…" He caught himself before he started complimenting those two.

"Let them help her. I believe they're the only ones who are able to." And with that last perplexing statement he left the Infirmary.

It was ten o'clock in the evening when the twins stepped out of the floo in their fetching new robes. Their business was getting along well and they refused to spend the eternity in haggard and mismatched clothes.

"George?"

"Aye Fred?"

"Where do you think Pomfrey is?" Fred asked looking around the dark Infirmary.

"I'm right here Messrs Weasley" Poppy Pomfrey came out from behind them, scaring the wits out of the two mischief-makers.

"Oh dear Poppy, we missed you!" they both said at once. The school matron who had to deal with their many injuries caused by their experiments on either themselves or unsuspecting students couldn't very well say the same.

"I assure you, I did not" Poppy said with a serious expression. "And you did not come here to converse with me" she brought them back to reality and both of them sobered up pretty quickly.

They weren't sure how come they hadn't figured it out sooner. It wasn't that long time ago that Hermione came to them asking about their bond. But their heads were full of their joke inventions and money calculations that they somehow managed to forget about it. So when they heard from their mum that Sirius Black was dead, they immediately felt terribly sorry for Harry but blanked out the fact that Hermione Granger was also concerned.

When Poppy Pomfrey came to visit them this evening, they only got a vague message from her, and what's more, it came from the Potion Master Severus Snape himself. For a moment they had absolutely no idea what it was all about. But then it clicked and the both of them rushed to Hogwarts.

"Where is she?" they both asked at the same time. Immediately, the expression on Poppy's face turned sad and worried. "Right there" she pointed towards one of the beds that had was gently illuminated by the oil lamp. There they spotted the figure sitting by window, completely immersed in a world of her own.

"Fred, I think we should go to see the Headmaster…"

"Yes we should… Madam Pomfrey, could you somehow get her things here? She's coming with us after we've visited the Headmaster." And with that both of them were on their way to the see Dumbledore.

Oh how she hated when she was being pushed around and only received half the information. But after a moment of grumbling she called for a Hogwarts elf. "How can Flipsy help you this evening?"

"Flipsy, can you pack all the belongings of Miss Granger and bring them here?" Poppy asked the elf.

"Of course, Filpsy will be right back!" And with a pop the elf disappeared to do what was asked of it.

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><p><strong>AN:**

**Now I know this chapter is rather short, but I have a lot on my plate right now so I'm very happy I managed to write this in such a short time. I feel I need to say a few things though. When I was on my way home, I realised that the things the people in my story had to go through had to change them somehow. And it dawned on me that the way J. (I have nothing against her per se, personally, I think she's a wonderful writer) the way that JKR portrayed the characters in the story didn't truly go well with what they had gone through. **

**So hopefully it won't surprise you that this story will be darker than the first part or the original canon. I won't have them going on rampages like some blood-thirsty vampires mind you... Both Harry and Hermione will explore their darker side but will become even more stronger because of it. **

**Now I've said my fair share and you can comment on this chapter :D hope you enjoyed it!**

**Please review!**


	4. In Your Head

_In your head, in your head they're still fighting,_  
><em>With their tanks and their bombs,<em>  
><em>And their bombs and their guns,<em>  
><em>In your head, in your head, they are dying...<em>

_- The Cranberries_

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><p>The suspense in the air was beginning to be stifling. A chill would run down your spine if you thought about it too often. The war was coming. Coming and coming, and you couldn't do anything to stop it. Those who had been old enough to remember the last war knew the feeling very well.<p>

Some of those people, McGonagall for example, have been around for much longer and remembered the time of Grindelvald and his march across Europe. She was but a girl back then but she could still recall the fear that crippled them all when the rumours of Grindelvald's return home to the Wizarding Britain hit them.

The most horrible thing about a war is that you know it is coming. Most of them hated that expression. The war is coming. It says nothing and yet, such a simple sentence is able to destroy the lives of many.

They, who were they? One would think that those wizards and witches were only those who were called blood-traitors, mudbloods and muggle-lovers by the other side – the dark side.

But no, surprisingly it wasn't so. It was the people on both side, either the dark or the light. They all thought the same thing. What does war accomplish?

Could you say that war accomplishes nothing? Of course you could… War leads to nothing but discontent and loss and even though the winning side may claim there's no one to oppose them, there always is and the amount of people who start to belong to the other side, the one that had lost the previous war grows and grows until another war begins and decimates the people yet again. And so right now, they were stuck in a vicious circle, some born on the light and some on the dark side.

What is the use of that?

Nothing is black and white, dark and light and neither is a war or the sides one could fight for. Did they realise it? Probably not…

The threat of a new war, a second one, much bloodier than the one before was looming. Already, one could easily succumb to the fear and flee, one could commit suicide so they wouldn't have to deal with what was to come. But there were those who stood against the terroriser of their precious world united and fearless.

Those weren't the people that were manipulative or those who fought on both sides so they could leave their options open so to say. No, those who stood united were those who had the most to lose or surprisingly, the least. Mothers and fathers fighting for a better world of their children, children of those who fell in the last war wanting to avenge their parents. Friends who would never be able to see each other again. Lovers, husbands and wives who had been cruelly separated by the abominable creature who called himself Lord Voldemort.

The war had taken everything from Minerva McGonagall. Her husband, her two sons, even her mother and father who were hidden away from the wizarding world.

Her mother had married a muggle thusly ceasing to do any kind of magic. Nevertheless she had never lost complete contact with her friends from Hogwarts and soon found out that in the village they lived in was another pair like them. She knew enough to fear the threat that was Grindelvald and the self-proclaimed Lord Voldemort.

But even though they fled to the Scottish Highlands as their daughter Minerva told them, the Deatheaters were able to find them. Minerva McGonagall, as a very important and skilled Order member had to be rendered useless somehow and after Voldemort found out he was unable to kill the accomplished witch he decided to strike home. Literally.

Her parents were one of the first victims of the ever growing number of Deatheaters. Then they tracked down her husband and sons and killed them off one by one. What Voldemort did not expect was that Minerva would become even more ruthless and efficient when it would come to dealing with Deatheaters.

She was the only one that opposed to inducting Severus Snape into the second Order of the Phoenix. She said many times, rather vigorously at that, that this decision of Dumbledore's would come to bite them in the arse later. According to her, no one ever ceased to be a Deatheater.

Throughout Harry Potter's fifth year, she was trying to come up with a subtle way of dealing with Umbridge. Despite the effort she put into it, she was unable to think of something that wouldn't be too aggressive or that wouldn't later point to her. So when the news of a rather mad Dolores Umbridge screeching her head off in the Great Hall reached her, she couldn't help but wonder who did it.

It seemed that Umbridge got the preposterous idea that the walls all around her were trying to swallow her up and so she fled to the Forbidden Forrest. And because she entered there on her own delirious free will, no one did hurry to go find her out of sheer fear for the pink toad.

Whoever did it, it was clear to her that they had to be Slytherin. And for the first time in her life, she actually admitted that those snakes had more than sawdust filling their heads. She would have been very surprised if she knew that the alleged Slytherin was actually one of her cubs that she tried to protect so fiercely…

Then it all went south. It took four teenage wizards and witches traveling to the Department of Mysteries for the world to realise that what Dumbledore and Potter kept saying since the end of last school years wasn't just some wish-wash, but the actual truth.

Because she was one of the Order she was told part of the actual story. Part? Well, the Prophet was spouting some ridiculous claik about Harry Potter. And since when does Albus Dumbledore say the whole truth?

One thing that strengthened her beliefs that Dumbledore was leaving something out was the state of Hermione Granger in the Hospital Wing. Outwardly, the girl looked fine but she was anything but. She did wonder whether Albus knew what was wrong with the young woman. And yet, if he knew what was wrong with her, why didn't he do anything to help her? All he had said about it was 'Let the girl gather her thoughts'. Because of what? Why?

She desired very much to give him piece of her mind about it, nevertheless she held herself back as usual. She was a strong witch, true, but she didn't have it in her to start doubting Dumbledore now. If she did, it would never end. Many people said there wasn't anyone more Gryffindor-ish than Minerva McGonagall and they would probably be saying the truth. She was brave, she was strong willed and she had courage that of ten wizards combined. She never backed down.

However the hat had wanted to put her to Ravenclaw for good reasons. She was not ignorant and she was very good at guessing what was going on inside of Albus's head. That was the advantage one had when one had known someone for as long as Minerva did Albus Dumbledore. And despite all that she thought, she believed in the Order of Phoenix and she believed that they would win in the end. Because if she didn't have at least a speck of hope, she would succumb to a world full of regret and vengefulness. And that would lead her precisely nowhere

It had been four days since the Daily Prophet ergo the fool of a Minister admitted that Voldemort was alive and she was currently doing her rounds. It was already past curfew and she had yet to find a student that had strayed from their common room. That is until she heard the noise of rushing feet. Pursuing the culprits she hasted in her strict manner, the wide sleeves flowing angrily around her arms showing just what she thought of breaking the rules.

What she didn't expect to see when she turned around the corner into another corridor were two identical redheads. They looked like deer caught in the headlight.

If the twins thought that no one else would know about their trip apart from Poppy, Dumbledore and in extension also Snape they were sorely mistaken. And the figure of their former Head of House was a proof of that.

"Minnie!" one of them exclaimed in nervousness. It seemed that the Weasley twins had taken over where the Marauders had left off when it came to calling McGonagall and Pomfrey by their given names.

"That is Madam McGonagall for you Mr. Weasley! And what in Merlin's name are you two doing here?" she asked them sternly as her green eyes bore into them.

"Weeell…" the other twin started to say. The thing was, they kinda hadn't thought it all out. They have rushed to Hogwarts and intended on taking Hermione back with them no questions asked. As it turned out, it would be a much more difficult thing to do, with persuading McGonagall to let them go and all. And they still hadn't thought of a plan on how to persuade Dumbledore to let her come with them.

It was Fred who spoke after a while of silence not being able to handle the hard look the Transfiguration professor was giving them. What they had learnt in those six and a half years they had gone to Hogwarts was that when it came to Minerva McGonagall then honesty was the best policy.

"We've come to pick up Hermione. She's going home with us." He said with persuasion. "And on whose authority is that?" The Head of Gryffindor House asked in her harsh Scottish accent.

"Ours" the other twin, George, answered after a while. McGonagall pursed her lips, surely wanting to say that her most precious Gryffindor was not going anywhere with those two trouble-makers but Fred beat her to it.

"She has nowhere to go, you know that. And… and in the state she's in right now… We – we think that if she were to go somewhere else it might be good for her"

It seemed that Fred had hit home with what he had just said.

How did they know that she had nowhere to go? Well, Ron was rather eloquent when it came to his description of Hermione's deception. However after a proper Molly Weasley dressing down, he may have just seen reason. The twins knew that the relationship their mother had with Ron's pseudo-friend Hermione was less then affable but after she heard that the girl was an orphan their mother did a complete one-eighty.

Suddenly, Molly Weasley became her usual maternal self and this time, it included Hermione Granger. It dawned on them then, the reason why Hermione kept it all secret. Why wouldn't she, when the people around her acted like she had a decease that had to be cured as soon as possible?

The hypocrisy of that disgusted them. One order from their mother and a promise of a hearty cake or whatever later and Ron was doing _exactly_ as she told him to.

His musings were interrupted when McGonagall spoke again. They had expected that she would tell them it was impossible for them to for the lack of a better term kidnap Hermione or that she would accompany them to the Headmaster's office which would end with them being thrown out of the castle. Instead of all of the above, she smiled a small, almost imperceptible conspiratory smile. Ah the kitty had claws...

"There's no need to look so worried" she glanced at the nervous pair of boys in front of her. She might as well do something for the poor dear. Sometimes, Minerva joked that she knew more than the Headmaster did when it came to the things that were going on right under his nose. And in the case of her own House it was very true, very true indeed.

She was not totally oblivious to the fact that Hermione Granger had a rather too much of a natural affinity wtih magic. The girl was a true sorceress, she thought with glee and pride many times since the Gryffindor in questions entered Hogwarts for the first time.

It did not escape her knowledge that under the exterior of a shy and studious girl an evil genius dwelled hidden. From time to time, she walked the corridors and observed the school not in her human form, but in her Animagus form of a tabby cat. One time in Hermione's fourth year, just before the second task, she had been a silent observer to one of her 'meetings' with the successors of the mighty Marauders.

The girl had such brilliant ideas and the way she worked with magic making it feel like the morning dew when you walked barefoot on a freshly mowed lawn astonished her like nothing she had ever seen before. She had never seen anything like it in a fourth year and from the expressions on both of the twin's faces, she guessed it was nothing new when it came to the special witch that was Hermione Granger.

She was truly shocked when Umbridge informed them one evening that Miss Granger was an orphan. She had thought that it was all the usual prevarication that was being spread by the wretched High Inquisitor. Nevertheless her protest were silenced by the claim that this information came from Miss Granger herself. It worried and vexed her to an extent. She was sorry that the girl wouldn't come to her and she had to hear from the harpy of a woman. It was all made very hush-hush and they were told only the Headmaster knew.

With the High Inquisitor breathing down her neck, she was unable to do anything against the rumours that were being spread around about her mysterious descent. She was sure that Umbridge herself created some of them. Minerva was certain that there wasn't a line that Dolores Umbridge wouldn't dare to cross.

"What are you still standing here for?" she exclaimed all of a sudden. "In the wake of recent events Miss Granger can leave Hogwarts any time she wants. She already finisher her O.W.L.'s, there's no reason she should remain at the castle till the actual end of the school year" seeing the boys were staring at her open mouthed she added in her stern voice that seemed to shake them out of their shock. "Chop chop! I believe Miss Granger would like to sleep in a more comfortable bed that is the iron hospital cot tonight."

And with that, she turned around and continued her patrol. Just like that. "Whaa-" George started to say, still rooted to the spot. "I told you Georgie, she can't help but adore us!" Fred exclaimed, but paid attention to not being loud lest they be found out by another teacher and he really didn't want to go through that again. He still couldn't believe that the strictest teacher there was, Snape didn't count since he's just plain mean, helped them – them, the Weasley twins!

"C'mon" Fred whispered after a while of silly staring and grabbing the sleeve of his twin's robe rushed towards the Infirmary.

"Poppy?" George called out.

"Yes Mister Weasley?" the woman in question answered. She had an eerie habit of surprising them from behind.

"Hermione's been cleared to go with us" Fred said. It wasn't a complete lie, she was cleared to go with them, only not by the Headmaster. But Poppy Pomfrey didn't ask that, did she…

For a moment, the both of them wondered whether the tired school matron would need some kind of a proof but it seemed that she find nothing out of ordinary with what they had just told her. 'Would they never learn?' they both asked themselves.

"I tried to shake her out of it, but she's as unresponsive as ever. The floo is open till midnight, curtesy of Headmaster Dumbledore… Goodnight gentlemen" and with that she went back to her quarters, too tired to deal with the both of them any longer. She was certain that the boys would treat the young woman more than appropriately and therefore left them to their own devices. Right then, her bed looked very inviting…

"George?"

"Aye Fred?"

"Do you have any – erm – idea how to…?"

"None Freddie…"

Both of them pursed their lips as they looked at the master mind that was motionlessly sitting by the window. From what they knew Poppy failed in her attempts to wake her up, Dumbledore let her to think it through and Snape had hoped that they would be able to help her. And they most certainly wanted to snap her out of it before they flooed over to their apartment over their store.

**PGBR**

The time stood at standstill. Subconsciously, she knew that people were trying to talk to her, that they talked about her, that they looked at her. But she didn't seem to percept it. Was she going crazy? No, not really. She just – she just didn't pay any attention to what was going on.

What was the use anyway? She just lost someone she was literally not able to live without and it hurt. It hurt to think about it, to even consider the possibility that it was all true, that he was indeed… dead. And even though she saw it happening right in front of her eyes day and night, it became more like a dream, a nightmare, than a reality. She didn't want to see the flashes of red anymore. She wanted to – she wanted to escape her own mind but it had already ensnared her and wasn't letting go.

"Shadowpaw…" she heard from afar. Only one person had ever known that nickname and only one person had ever used it. She pushed against the mist that was her mind, she bit through the fogginess.

Her eyes cleared and she turned her head in the direction that her name was coming from. But instead of meeting those bottomless grey eyes she expected, she was met by a familiar pair of brown which were partly shadowed by ginger bordering on red hair that partly fell over the persons eyes.

"It worked!" someone from the other side shouted and Hermione slowly turned her head to see one of the Weasley who was happy beyond himself. "What worked?" she croaked out, her mind not catching up with what was going on.

"You came out of it!" the other one exclaimed cheerfully.

"Came out of what?" she asked after Fred, she was sure it was Fred, handed her a glass of water.

"Well, you – you – we suppose that it was some kind of shock. You didn't talk or move for three days so Snape called us and now we're taking you home with us" the other twin, George supplied an explanation however it still wasn't making any sense to her.

"Snape did what?"

"He called for us" with that Fred got up from the bed, presumably hers, which he was sitting on. "Can you walk? You were frozen in that position for quite some time…"

And it was true. When she attempted to stand up, her legs refused to work and if it weren't for the boys, she would have tripped over the chair she was sitting on rather nastily. Slowly, supported from each side by one of the twins, they made their way towards the floo.

"I don't recall there ever was a fireplace in the Infirmary" Hermione said absentmindedly.

George offered the answer to that "There isn't one, usually... Just for today… The Headmaster made it available for Poppy…" he said as vaguely as was possible. He was sure that even though Hermione was talking and walking, she didn't have an actual idea about what was going on.

Stepping inside the huge fireplace that was able to accommodate their large frames, he scooped up a handful of floo powder and said "93 Diagon Alley"

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><p><strong>AN:**

**Another chapter! I think this story is coming along nicely... What do _you_ think? :-) **

**Please review!**


	5. Where is my mind?

**A/N: I know, I know. Too long since my last update. I have been having one hell of a week - the end of a semester and all so I had a lot of going on. But here it is at last, another chapter! Enjoy :-)**

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><p><em>Your head will collapse<em>  
><em>But there's nothing in it<em>  
><em>And you'll ask yourself<em>  
><em>Where is my mind?<em>

_- The Pixies_

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><p><em>Run, that was all that he could do. Shadows were pursuing him, shadows dressed in dark cloaks that emitted extreme cold that chilled him to the bone. Even though his body felt like it would freeze in the next moment, like if he dared to trip it would shatter like a porcelain cup he kept on running not caring what was in front of him, only caring about putting as much distance between him and his pursuers.<em>

_Running, stumbling across the never-ending corridors, his breath audible as much as ticking of the clock in a room during the night. Inhaling, tick. Exhaling, tock. Tick, tock. _

_He was almost there, the dark smoke that surrounded him was clearing out but suddenly, he tripped. As if he was in slow motion he perceived his fall down like a spectator looking at some poor soul that managed to trip in the most dangerous and deadly of situations. The floor seemed to rather go further away than to come closer. However the sound of the dull sound of his body hitting the floor and the clicking noise that came from his wand hitting the stone cold and hard floor was unmistakable. _

_Motionlessly, he lied on the dark, dark floor. His limbs stayed in the exact same position they were in when he fell down, one arm curled painfully under his torso, while the other one was clutching his wand in his hand. His knees burnt from hitting the tiled floor with such force and his ears were ringing from the sudden loss of balance. When he looked down, he was able to see his reflection on the tiled ground even though it was unfocused and too horrifying to keep looking at it. _

_His nose was bleeding prufosely and slowly the side of his face that was pressed against the ground was bathed in his own blood. When did he get that wound?_

_His mind descended into a deeper awareness of his surroundings. He could practically feel those cloaked figures advancing, standing right at the feet of his lying body. He heard their swishing cloaks, he heard their feet clad in heels gently clapping against the hard surface. And then it all stopped. But the end was not to come that easily nor quickly._

_Someone was leaning above him, long heavy tresses brushed against his back, dark magic emanating off the person hovering over his side. It had to be a woman._

_Screwing his eyes shut he held his breath hoping they would be fooled and think he was dead. Hoping that they would go away that she would stand back up. But Deatheaters can't be fooled that easily. _

_He felt hot breath hit against his neck, caressing his skin in the most sensual way… Her magic tried to persuade him to give into to it, to give into the power it thought he craved. But he did not. Intuitively, he knew who was running their hand against his back covered with his cloak. Losing the little control he had over his body he still had left, he shivered. _

"_You can't outrun us…" a feminine voice drawled right into his ear. A cackle, a heinous and terrifying cackle, the distinct Bellatrix's laugh enveloped him and his eyes flew open. _

Sitting up suddenly, Neville woke up from his nightmare. A sheen of sweat had built on his forehead. His breathing still hadn't calmed down as he leaned forward, putting his head in his hands.

It had been more than two weeks since that fateful night at the Ministry of Magic and his mind made him relive those terrifying moments again and again, each nightmare being a worse and more absurd than the one before.

Leaning back he turned to lie on his right side facing the grand window and watched as the sun went out and stream of warm summer light rushed into his room.

Those two weeks had been busy and yet very mundane. Their fifth school year had come to an end right now he was back again at the Longbottom manor trying to think of an interesting way to spend his summer break. This had been his first night back home and suddenly, the prospect of being here all on his own didn't seem so appealing, if it ever did.

Palming his face with his hands he sighed deeply and tiredly. His mind was blank, not really concentrating on anything specific. He knew that it was no use to go back to sleep, it never was. He now understood why Harry always looked like hell after one of his nightmares. He could not function properly when he was part of something so vivid and so real like his nightmares.

Blindly reaching towards the bedside table, Neville grabbed his wand and with a swish of his cherry wood wand he drew the almost sheer curtains apart. He never really liked how they obscured the view he got from his window.

What was good about wizarding homes was that one could practise magic pretty much whenever one wanted. If it weren't for his shame of being unable to practise solid magic before Hermione set him straight, he would have surely used this brilliant opportunity not many of other students had. Back then, before his breakthrough with his magic this year, he didn't really need all of his family left to see him as a near squib.

He was convinced that his grandmother either didn't realise how humiliating the comparing of his and his father's magical abilities was or that she did it on purpose thusly attempting to draw the magic out of him.

She even made his great-uncle Algie drop out of the window to make him do children's accidental magic. She chided him at every opportunity she had that he didn't live up to his family's reputation.

But then, during this very Christmas, something changed in his grandmother Augusta Longbottom and she became a completely different person. She didn't comment on his work at school anymore and when she did, she praised him for his progress.

She even went to Ollivander's with him and allowed him to choose his own wand. It wasn't that he didn't like his father's wand. He loved that he could have something of his father's at his person all the time and a wand was such an important tool in a wizard's life. But it wasn't _his_ wand and it was so difficult for him to trust it.

He didn't really understand the magic that was wandlore but he caught on some of the knowledge Mr. Ollivander imparted on him when he visited the aged wizard's shop the very day he arrived from Hogwarts for his winter break.

Garrick was his name? Yes, Neville was sure that was it… Garrick first asked him why he though his father's wand wasn't good for him. In the beginning, it felt a little awkward, with his grandmother standing there and all. He hadn't realised it before but a wizard's or witch's wand was something so – so very intimate that he felt uncomfortable talking about it.

However, he wanted a wand that would work for him and him alone so he overcame his shyness and attempted to describe the feeling of doing magic with someone else's wand as best as he could.

He could still remember the words he had used that evening. He described it as if the wand didn't trust him, that it mocked his magic and that he felt like it laughed at him. He thought that the eccentric and scary wandmaker would look at him as if he had grown another head and would wave off all those nonsensical motions.

But contrary to what he had thought, the wandmaker actually took him seriously. Oh that word hurt now, even though he was only thinking about it. But those were thoughts for another day…

What the wandmaker then told him surprised him. He agreed with him, he agreed with the way he described his feelings.

"_Wands do not trust those that they did not choose and even though that after a while they mould themselves to their user's needs, they never quite admit it that the other wizard owns them…" Mr. Ollivander told him as he stared at him, prodded him with his seeking eyes. _

"_You speak of them as if they had a mind all of their own" Neville said deep in thought, perplexed by the way Ollivander spoke of his creations. _

"_But of course they do Mr. Longbottom. I believe that wands are far more complex creatures than us, wizards and witches." The owner of the shop voiced his thoughts mysteriously._

"_Now, which is your wand arm?" Mr. Ollivander enquired after he measured him with his firm gaze…_

That afternoon, almost an evening, his grandmother didn't say a thing. She just sat there and Neville supposed she solely observed what was going on in front of her.

He had surprised himself at the wandmaker's shop – with his even and confident speech and with his ability to actually communicate well with another grown wizard. It felt very surreal that night, all of it, from the strange meeting Hermione had with his grandmother to the proud glances his grandmother gave him almost every five minutes.

Hermione…

Not really caring for lying in his bed any longer he pulled the heavy duvet off of him and sat on the edge of his bed. Stretching his hands up above his head a yawn escaped him as he tried to persuade his body to cooperate with his mind.

With his wand in hand he strode towards his mahogany table where a long letter waited to be scrolled up and sent. Reading once more over what he had written the evening before he added one photograph to it and sealed it up in a hard envelope. Nodding to himself and still in his pyjamas he went in the direction of the owlery at their manor.

The Longbottom manor wasn't that big but for what it lacked in the grandeur of the actual building it made up by its incredible gardens. That was the place his love for magical flowers sprouted. Being an old family, the grounds harboured many special and rare plants that couldn't be found almost anywhere else.

And so in the time his grandmother refused to spend with him, he got to know the garden and the greenery that surrounded their centuries old home from all sides. It was his escape from his lonely childhood.

Even thought that to some, it might seem strange and almost impossible, Neville perceived all plants a being with a soul. They breathed and they needed nutrients, they were just like them. So he surrounded himself with something he understood and which didn't mock him…

Deep in thought he reached the owlery in no time and called for one of the middle sized white faced owls which landed in his prepared and raised arm with ease. It hooted at him gently and with deftness that came only with years of practice his fingers tied his letter to its leg.

"Take this to Hermione. I don't know where she is right now but please find her, for me" he pleaded with the bird perched lightly on his arm. Even though it was a rather large owl, it still weighed close to nothing.

Hooting and nodding its head at him, thus effectively showing off its incredible cleverness, it took off into the sunny summer day. Turning around, Neville went to the breakfast parlour. Breakfast was being served and he didn't want to be late.

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><p>Traveling through the floo while only half conscious was a thing she was never doing again. Her stomach felt like it was being pulled through an incredibly narrow tube and as soon as her feet hit the hearth of the twins' apartment she felt incredible queasy and wondered how it was possible she didn't just throw up. True, there was nothing in her stomach but you get her point…<p>

The twins, still supporting her from either side, led her through a long hallway and entered a rather spacious room. Her eyelids were dropping and so where the arms of the boys. It seemed that while she was slowly but surely falling asleep standing up her body got heavier and heavier. They were all very grateful when she just pointed with her head towards the bed that was in the middle of the room and Fred and George helped her to sit on it.

"Do you have a sleeping robe?" One of the twins asked her. Mumbling something incoherently she fell back and ignored what was going on around her. It was rather rude but she hadn't slept for days, not that she knew that but her body seemed to have caught up on that fact pretty fast.

After hearing some rummaging and swearing she felt as cold but gentle hands helped her sit up and took off her cloak while someone else, the other twin she presumed, got hold of her feet and pulled of her boots.

"A little help here Hermione" one of them complained which had waken her up from her sleepiness enough to tell them that she really didn't care for what they saw. Closing her eyes again she was only vaguely aware of someone pulling of her shirt and pants and putting on her sleeping shorts and t-shirt.

She felt herself being held in someone's arms and then being laid back on the bed. The last thing she remembered before falling asleep was the warmth of the heavy duvet covering her body up to her chin and the soft cushions under her head. Sighing contently, she surrender herself to sleep.

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><p><strong>AN: Okay, dear readers, another chapter's behind us. Maybe not what you all pictured but I have been stuck on the idea of her move to the twins appartment for weeks so I'm quite proud at how I managed that. However, I promise you that there are things going to happen in the summer that is awaiting them all, and they are going to be pretty cool :D so stay tuned and REVIEW! :D**


	6. Nothing to lose

**A/N: This chapter is for Grovek26, anabellegrace and all those who supported my work throughout the many months I had spent on writing. Thank you so much guys!**

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><p><em>Go to him now, he calls you, you can't refuse<em>  
><em>When you ain't got nothing, you got nothing to lose,<em>  
><em>You're invisible now, you've got no secrets to conceal<em>

_- Bob Dylan_

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><p>Slowly, her mind ascended from her sleep induced unconsciousness. Her hand, which was thrown behind her head haphazardly some time during her sleep, got drawn back so the muscles weren't being pulled so harshly. Fingers that hadn't been used for such a long time got stretched as much as they could be. Nevertheless she still haven't regained complete sense in them and the tips of her fingers remained still rather numb.<p>

She couldn't open her eyes to the fullest since her eyelashes were stuck together and it hurt to force them open. Carefully, she rubbed her eyes, yawning as if she had no jaw joints. But it took her some time to realise that it was evening.

The room she was in was shrouded in the dark even though the curtains weren't drawn. There was only little amount of light coming from the window and Hermione relished in the darkness it clouded her in. Looking down on her body which was barely visible in the dark room she found out that somebody had changed her clothes and put on her pyjamas. Moreover, this wasn't the Infirmary she remembered entering last evening.

'What the hell happened?' she asked herself as she clumsily climbed out of the big and above all very comfortable bed. Looking around, she couldn't spot her wand and that vexed her immensely. Walking towards what she suspected was the door she stumbled upon her opened trunk and yelped out in surprise and pain

She heard a commotion outside of her room and in no time, the door swung open and a dim stream of light burst in. Two manly silhouettes were standing in the doorway, their faces completely covered by the shadows since they stood in the way of the light coming from the hallway. But from the way one figure resembled the other she guessed they were the Weasley twins.

"How did I come here?" she asked them, not entirely sure whether they haven't already had this discussion. She got the feeling she had to be sleeping for more than just one night. A day, maybe? But then how did she get here?

"Well, George and I half-carried you here…" Fred answered not looking at her.

"How long have I been asleep?" she asked them while she took a look around the room. Spotting her cloak thrown over a chair, she made her way towards it. Fortunately for her, this time she didn't encounter any obstacles. Covered in her soft cloak, she turned around and stared at the boys who still hadn't answered her question.

"What's the last thing you remember?" one of them asked her.

Furrowing her brow she said "Getting money from Dumbledore and then going to the Infirmary. Why?" she asked them completely befuddled.

"Hermione, that was – that was more than a week ago" one of the twins mumbled but it was loud enough for Hermione to hear it.

"What?!" she exclaimed incredulously. She couldn't have been asleep for that long could she? "That's not possible!" she whispered.

"We swear we're not trying to take the Mickey out of you" they both defended themselves but stopped immediately knowing that Hermione wasn't very fond of their joint speech.

"You came here some four or five days ago – "

"- you were completely out of it and you slept ever since we brought you here..." The other twin concluded the sentence.

Not really wanting to stand in the doorway anymore they suggested going to the living room. Hermione followed the twins not really paying attention to the colourfully done walls of the hallway.

If she did, she would have noticed the incredible kitschy decorations hanging on the wall. However, she would have been pleasantly surprised to notice that they had posters of muggle sci-fi films glued to the wall.

Nevertheless, she did take time to study the room they let her in. There was a huge red sofa covered in all kinds of cushions in the middle of the room. Shelves were covered with trinkets of all kinds and sizes, some of them were puffing, some of them tinkling. It reminded her of the Headmaster's office and she wondered whether the twins got their obsession with noisy things from that barmy Headmaster.

Not really waiting to be offered the seat on the sofa, she plopped down on one side and let herself be swallowed by the many cushions that propped up her back. Obviously, they didn't mind her mannerless behaviour since one of them fetched a blanket which had three Ws on it and was in the colour of their hair.

She quirked her eyebrow at that but didn't say a thing, only snuggled deeper into the cushions and let out a very satisfied sigh.

"Don't fall asleep again" one of them chided her but she only chuckled and closed her eyes. She was still aware of what was going on around her mind you. Unfortunately, someone grabbed her shoulder rather harshly and shook her awake.

"I wasn't asleep!" she exclaimed annoyed but the expression on the faces she was looking her told her otherwise.

"Actually, you were, - "

"- for about another hour"

Her eyes bugged out unnaturally. 'What the hell is going on with me? Why do I need to sleep so much?' she asked herself. Sitting up, she dragged some more cushions behind her back so she could comfortably lean back but would remain sitting. She followed one of the twins go back to what she suspected was a kitchen from the noise he made.

"Oh well…" she remarked but otherwise didn't say anything else. Fred, that's the one who shook her awake was sitting in an armchair opposite the sofa and George was doing something in the kitchen and cussing rather profusely.

"You all right there Georgie?" Fred hollered at this twin and Hermione cringed at the sudden loudness of his voice.

"Next time, you are cooking!" George complained grumpily "It was you who wanted to make one of your special creations tonight, so quit bugging me with your problems" Fred teased him which probably wasn't a very good idea.

"So Her –" he didn't even manage to say her name when an apple hit his head with startling accuracy.

"Oh you wanker" Fred murmured under his breath rubbing his head. She could hear the childish laughter coming from the kitchen. It was all she could do not to laugh at Fred herself. She was sure she must have been a sight. Stifling the laugh that was bubbling in her throat and keeping her face straight must have ended up in a rather ugly grimace.

But Fred wasn't one to get flustered so easily. Taking out his wand he quickly pointed it at George's head and muttered an incantation. Curiosity winning over, she glanced at the other twin who was occupied with stirring something in a pot while a knife was magically chopping something on the knife board.

All of a sudden his hair grew into long curly and above all pink, bubble pink locks which were then bound by rouge bows. It seemed as if George didn't expect his brother to retaliate since he kept on whistling and stirring.

Hermione, who was grinning like a Cheshire cat just shook her head at the Weasley and turned to look back at the other one. There were some difference between the two of them, difference that could be recognised only after years of studying the Gryffindors, now proud owners of their own shop.

George was the sensible one and Fred the sensitive one, even though he tried to hide it as much as he could. George preferred his right leg for some strange reason and Fred had a zig zag scar on his hand. Those were one of the many things she had managed to spot in the five years she had known Gred and Forge. Oh they had their moments…

Sighing she recalled her recent predicament. She was missing more than a week of memories and that was a very disturbing feeling.

"Fred?" she started not really sure in which direction was this conversation going to head.

"Yes Hermione?" Fred asked her with equal lack of courage.

"What happened?" she had no other way of posing her question which even like this sounded very foolishly to her. But what was a girl to do?

"Well, you were kind of out of it for I think three days… You just stared out of the window at the Hogwarts grounds and you didn't even budge. So Pompfrey and Snape called us… Fred and I – it took us quite a while till you snapped out of it. But I guess you were so tired from sitting in the same position for three days and nights in a row that your body just, I don't know – shut down?" Fred explained as well as he was able to.

"I see" was all she said. Deep in thought, she missed the worrying glance the twins gave themselves, even though on Fred's side it was soon replaced by a near burst of laughter.

"What is your problem Fred?" George asked him irritated, with a strange expression on his face. "Nothing, Nothing" Fred answered with his hands up in the air in surrender.

"You're evil Fred Weasley" Hermione muttered looking straight in Fred's eyes which were sparkling with mischievousness.

"What I don't get was why I was catatonic for three days. I mean, nothing terrible happened at the Ministry. The world was robbed off two feckless Deatheaters. But that was all…" Hermione tried to find the reason behind her strange condition just days ago.

Fred looked at her as if she had grown another head.

"Is there something on my face?" she asked him at a loss of why he was acting so strangely. "Nothing 'Mione, let me check on George" he said in a rush and bolted from his seat.

Tiredness overpowered her yet again and bending her head backwards she closed her eyes. Smelling what was sure to be a wonderful meal, she tried to analyse each and every scent she could percept.

On the other side of the living room, the twins were whispering to each other frantically.

"She doesn't remember!" Fred exclaimed quietly, throwing his hands in the air wildly.

"What do you mean she doesn't remember?" George asked his twin, not really catching on what he was trying to say to him.

"I mean, she doesn't know why she was in a shock for I don't know how long!" Fred was getting desperate. What were they supposed to do? Tell her Sirius died and then go through the whole process again and again until she stops blacking out? He wasn't cruel and he sure didn't have the guts to do it to her. He was a Gryffindor which meant he was afraid of almost nothing, but this was not courage, this was cruelty!

"Calm down Freddie" George implored him but his twin acted as if he didn't hear him.

"Calm down? Calm down?" his voice was getting louder and louder until he almost whisper shouted. "We should call someone who knows her better than we do, maybe Harry!" Fred was getting more irrational by the minute as his mind kept coming up with infinite number of possibilities for the way they should break the news to her shouldn't she miraculously remember what really happen, which he doubted.

"Are you out of your mind? We can't bring Harry here! He's hiding somewhere so the Deatheaters don't catch him and I doubt bringing him to Diagon Alley would be safe... Dumbledore would have our guts served on a silver platter!" George was getting fed up with his twin. Not that he was looking forward to 'enlightening' Hermione but he would rather do it himself than spread it to the world that the person she was bonded to just died.

There were only three of them who knew the truth of Sirius's and Hermione's relationship and he wasn't entirely sure that Snape was the comforting kind.

After a moment of silence between the twins, George continued "We'll tell her and if you don't want to, fine, I can manage it alone. But we're not bringing someone else into this. You know it's dangerous. **Dangerous**, Fred!"

George was at the end of his tether. It was by no means comfortable talking about the situation Hermione was currently in.

The only constructive and practical thing Quirrell taught them in their third year was how to get rid of a boggart. He could still picture Fred's battered and bloody body, motionlessly lying on the floor. Dead. He managed to cast the Riddiculus charm but the both of them spent the afternoon in the Infirmary, binging on calming draughts. All in all, it was a thought he refused to let enter his mind ever again.

Banging his head against the wall that separated the kitchen from the living room he wondered why did life had to be so, so devastating.

"Fred, look at her" George whispered when he stopped with the pointless banging of his head against the wall. He couldn't help but be mesmerised but the witch that was asleep yet again. "Let's leave her alone for the night and in the morning, we can come up with a plan on how to gently ease her into the idea…" George attempted to formulate his idea but even he couldn't help but cringe at the naivety of what he just said.

"Ease her into it? Really? Have you gone bonkers?" Fred exclaimed angrily.

"Do you have another idea if you're so bloody clever?" George asked him red in the face completely forgetting about the stew that was slowly burning on the stove.

But Fred just shook his head and raised his hands in surrender muttering something under his breath.

"What was that?" George egged him on but Fred already turned around and stalked out of the kitchen. Was his brother really that daft? No probably not, but for the last four or five days Hermione had been asleep they were ignoring the large elephant in the room.

Snape asked them to help the girl but honestly, they had no idea how. They just kind of assumed that it would clear itself out as the time went but this evening really opened their eyes. This wasn't one of the things they could just plan as they went. They were by no means reckless (not as much as they used to be when they were eleven) but they still weren't used to the thinking ahead kind of way of dealing with things.

Smelling some god-awful smell he turned around and was horrified at the sight of his brilliant stew getting burnt. Sighing, he vanished the contents of the pot and looked out of the window that was opposite of him. What he saw when he looked up surprised him so much that he shrieked like a little girl.

"FREEED!" he yelled not really caring about who he woke up and barged into the living room where Hermione was no longer asleep but laughing so hard tears were streaming down her face and Fred looked way too sheepishly.

"Sorry dear brother?" Fred tried to persuade him from using his wand at him but he was too much gone into his rage to mind his brother's apologetic expression.

"Now, now Freddie, you know what happens when you play with my hair…" George drawled, a sadistic smile on his face.

Hermione was observing what was going on in front of her eyes with morbid curiosity. When one of the Weasley twins got angry, it didn't end well. She still remembered what happened when at Grimmauld Place during the winter holidays one of their experiments got of hand and Fred made them go bald and however they tried they couldn't get their hair to grow back. Sirius had to…

Sirius…

"George?" Hermione said in a shaky voice, staring at the boy in question with wide eyes. The two of them stopped their hassle and turned to look at her, Fred with a startled expression while George looked too resigned to her liking.

"Yes Hermione?" George asked her immensely worried by her piercing gaze.

"What – what happened to Sirius?" her voice was so quiet and trembling that she wondered whether he was able to understand her. But she couldn't get rid of the dread that filled her. Images she reckoned were the fancy of her nightmares were flying in front of her eyes like a sped up film.

"He – he – " George tried to say but realised that he couldn't utter the words. Just moments ago he had spared with Fred about this exact thing, talked about easing her into it but just as Fred had pointed out to him, there was no easing in.

"For Merlin's sake what happened to him?" Hermione suddenly shouted standing up, letting the blanket fall to the floor and ignoring the numbness that came from standing on legs she hadn't used for quite some time.

It was Fred who stepped in this time, a heart-broken expression on his face that made Hermione take a step back. "Bellatrix, she stunned him and he fell into the Veil. There's no coming back from it. I'm sorry" he said quietly, but his gaze didn't waver. He looked straight into her stormy blue eyes that seemed to get darker and darker with each word he uttered.

"So he's dead" Hermione stated the fact. What was left of the sparkle in her eyes just dimmed and Fred had to avert his eyes, not being able to meet her ice-cold empty stare. "Is he?" She demanded they acknowledge the fact but all they were able to do was say a meek yes.

"And Bellatrix is the one who did it?" she asked wanting to hear it once more, wanting to know who would pay for it.

"Yes" the both of them said at the same time and only now, after what felt like an eternity filled with silence did they look at her.

To a stranger, to someone who had no idea who he was dealing with, she would look absolutely normal, confident even. But to them, they could see what was brewing below the surface that was the mask she showed the world. And once that blew up, there would be piece of Hermione for them to pick up and they weren't sure if anyone, let alone them, would be able to piece her back together.

Before they could say anything else, she announced she was going to sleep, forgetting she was looking forward to dinner just moments ago.

The twins slumped on the sofa one bending his head backwards and screwing his eyes shut, the other putting his head in his hands which rested on his thighs. None of them knew what to do next. The way she just reacted – it was not natural. It reminded them too much of a storm right before the first and deadliest thunder-bolt struck.

There was one thought running through their head 'How do you get the storm to blow over but not let it destroy itself at the same time?'

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><p><strong>AN: I'm so glad I managed to write and post another chapter. I hope you liked it! Lets make things interesting... I won't post another chapter until I have at least twenty reviews. I'm not cruel oh no, I'm just way too interested in your opinion and I would like to improve my writing as much as is possible in my hectic life. So click down there on the button and review! Love you guys! :-)**


	7. Cold, Cold Heart

**A/N: I love your reviews! The first semester is finally behind me and I have some time to devote to my story so hopefully the chapters are going to be longer than before. **

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><em>There was a time when I believed that you belonged to me<em>  
><em>But now I know your heart is shackled to a memory<em>  
><em>The more I learn to care for you, the more we drift apart<em>  
><em>Why can't I free your doubtful mind and melt your cold, cold heart?<em>

_- Hank Williams_

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><p>It took Hermione two more days till she finally fully woke up. Opening her eyes, she was blinded by the bright light that streamed into the room through the large window. She didn't have any nightmares during her lengthy sleep and was pretty well rested, maybe too much. Nevertheless, that didn't mean that she wasn't planning on enjoying the rest of the day lounging in her bed.<p>

Planning on spending the rest of the day under the warm covers wasn't such a bad idea, she told herself. Imagining the many different ways to make Bellatrix scream from unbearable pain was high on her agenda indeed. Nevertheless her musings were interrupted by a light tapping coming from the window.

Grumbling under her breath she pulled off the soft duvet and begrudgingly walked towards the window. An owl stared at her with its dark eyes. Was it possible for owls to scowl? Only after it hooted for a good matter did Hermione snap out of her sleepy state and unlocked the window. The bird flew in, looking similarly to the way Hermione did and perched itself on her chair. Unfortunately, the open window inadvertently let in the cold and biting air of the summer morning.

Angry and shivering, Hermione quickly shut the window with a loud click as the lock fit into its slot. Turning her head to take a look at the bird she noticed the envelope attached to its leg. As if urging her on, the clever owl stretched its leg towards her and Hermione, catching on, gently unbound the heavy missive from its leg.

Looking back at the bird she was surprised to see that it wanted to fly off again, not wanting any water or treats as these creatures usually did. Instead, it tapped on the glass pane with its beak as if pleading with her to let it out in the free world. Reluctantly, Hermione obliged but didn't want the cold air to get back in again. Shaking her head in disbelief, she quickly turned the knob and left just enough space for the bird to get out and quickly shut it back again.

Grabbing the thick and expensively looking envelope she jumped back on her bed and threw the covers over her bare legs, relishing in the warmth that surrounded her body at once. Sighing contently, she propped herself on her hands and shifted backwards, wanting to lean against the headboard.

Turning the heavy missive over, she spotted a rather intricate emblem on the seal. Bringing it nearer to her face, she was able to distinguish a rather peculiar crest pressed into the dark red wax. Both sides of the crest were created by branch of ivy and in the middle, there was a large cursive L with two crossed wands above it.

All in all, it was a very nice family crest but Hermione had absolutely no idea who it belonged to. Studying crests of the many pureblooded families there were was something she avoided like a plague. It was way too close to thinking of finding her own family and she was still in two minds about that. One day, she was eager to learn who her birthparents were, and next she abhorred even the word mother.

That resulted in her shying away from any genealogy books – if it didn't deal with their beloved Dark Lord that is. She was certain she was one of the few people in their world to know as much about the Slytherin family as she did.

Breaking the seal, she was surprised by the content of the envelope. Written in a neat penmanship she recognised almost instantly was a rather long letter from none other than Neville Longbottom.

Splaying out the letter on her bent up knees, she began to read.

_Dear Hermione,_

_How are you? Where have you been? You just disappeared two weeks before the end of the year and nobody really knew where you've gone... I just hope that you're somewhere safe with all the Deatheaters running around. _

_I would have invited you to stay with us at the Longbottom manor only Harry told me that you already have some place to stay. I don't want to sound rude or anything but with you having no parents or family and all I thought you might appreciate staying somewhere else other than in the orphanage. With the stuff that happened this year and the one before I can't help but worry about you so please consider coming to stay with us for a while._

_Speaking of Harry, he wasn't doing so well the last time I had seen him. After we came back from the Ministry he explained everything to me. About Sirius being innocent, that he was his godfather and all… I still have my grandma and even though my parents aren't really sane there for me, I still have them. I can't imagine what he must be going through, both of you really. I know that neither of you want my pity so just know that if you ever need something, anything, just ask!_

_My grandmother inquired about your well-being, care to explain why she's suddenly so interested in you? You don't have to if you don't want to. It's only that ever since Christmas she's acting a little weird, not bad weird but still weird... And I still remember how you met her at the King's Cross train station and she was all chummy with you. Actually I quite like the new her... She doesn't pester and torment me all the time so that is an upside. _

_But she started to be so - I suppose over cautious is the best word for it. One minute she's glad I went with you to rescue a member of the Order and the next she's scolding me for doing something so reckless. I never know which way is up with her now..._

_I'm sorry for bugging you with my family matters. You were always there for me, especially last year, and understood the way things were for me and I've missed our talks._

_The only bad news is the sudden appearance of Umbridge. On the last day of school, she stumbled out of the Forbidden Forest. It was very – unexpected to say the least… I still wonder how she managed to find a way out. She had twigs sticking out of her hair in all directions, maybe a bird used it as its nest. As soon as she entered the Great Hall she passed out. _

_Strange if you think that just two weeks ago she got claustrophobic even from being the Great Hall. I suppose she enjoyed the free space way too much. Unfortunately for the whole world, madam Pomfrey claimed that the terrible woman would eventually heal both physically and emotionally. _

_Poor madam Pomfrey, she looked like she ate something incredibly sour when she announced that._  
><em>That's pretty much all that happened in the two weeks you weren't there. Dumbledore cancelled all our lessons saying we already studied enough for one year. So you missed literally nothing.<em>

_Please write soon, if just to tell you're all right._  
><em>Neville<em>

_P.S.: there's a photograph of the first Order of the Phoenix enclosed, Harry gave me a copy and McGonagall was kind enough to do one for you so you can keep it_

Looking inside the thick envelope again, she spotted another folded piece of paper and pulled it out. Putting Neville's letter aside she spread the opaque photograph. It was the exact copy of the one Sirius gave Harry before their fifth year.

Tears wanted to spill from her eyes and she could feel her heart clench at the memory and in that moment she had had enough with the waterworks. She couldn't concentrate on anything while her heart was being squished under the tons of feelings she was forbidden from feeling.

Knowing there was only one way out, knowing that in this state she wouldn't be able to help anybody, she resolved to lock all those feelings away.

She remembered reading something like this in a book from the Black library. It dealt with organising your thoughts and the structure of your memories. However, there was also a section on emotions. Even though the author considered it a foolhardy feat, locking your part of your feelings away, he did describe a way of accomplishing such a task.

Closing her eyes, she performed the task she did many times before, she descended deep into her mind. Only now did she realise that she hadn't attempted the Animagus transformation in a long time and made a mental note to try it later. Going even deeper than before, she started to pull every memory she had of Sirius and separated them from every feeling she connected with those very memories. In the end she was left with raw memories without any emotional involvement.

It was hard letting go of those feelings. They were still there, at the very bottom of her mind. She knew this was just another form of denial, but she didn't have time and most of all energy to deal with his death. It would leave her crippled for many days, months, even years to come. If she let herself feel all those things she did before, she wouldn't be able to deal with what was going on now. So fighting her way away from what she left behind she opened her eyes, her heart cold, just like it was before she met him.

Looking at the magical photograph in her hand she realised she had never studied it thoroughly before. They were all waving happily at her, hearts filled with hope. She recognised each and every one of them from the many hours she spent with reading about the First Wizarding War.

From what she knew about the Order's history; which was not much since all the information she got came from newspaper clippings and books written by everyone but a member of the Order phoenix; it was only the inner circle of the Order of the Phoenix on the photograph in her hand. It was a startling realisation – that the Order had the same hierarchy.

Though it was less widespread knowledge than the one about the ranks in-between the Deatheaters it was still there and for the first time Hermione was thinking about whose side she was fighting on. Shaking her head to rid herself of the thoughts that suddenly rushed through her mind, she concentrated on the photograph spread on her legs again.

There were circa twenty of them.

The first generation of the Order was very young, but still older than them, still older than Harry and all the others. They still had time to grow up properly before they had to fight for their lives and didn't have to forget about enjoying the time they had left in the world.

Though Hermione supposed it wasn't a bed of roses all the time for them. Everyone has their own personal demons, some of them admit that they have them, and some of them cover from them…

Putting the photograph down, she slid further down the bed, exhaling loudly. The letter surprised her, in a good way. She was glad to get some news about the outside world, even though it bothered her immensely that Umbridge looked like she would recover eventually.

Harry must be in a wretched state right now. He had lost one of his last connections to his parents; he had lost someone who was as close to being his father to him as anyone could get, excluding the fact that she was almost hundred percent sure that he blamed it all on himself.

If there was anyone to blame, it was her. She wasn't one to play the martyr, no, she faced this terrible fact head on. This one simple thought seemed to shred her insides and destroy the little compassion she had left for herself. Always being more of the realistic bordering on pessimistic point of view, she realised she was the _only_ one to blame.

Her reasoning was clear if only a tad faulty. Fancying herself to be of an analytic and logical mind, she should have realised that Harry was by no means in the right mind to check on Sirius in the first place. She had no idea who he had asked but one assumption outweighed all the other ideas she had.

If Harry asked Kreacher whether Sirius, or any of the Order were present at Grimmauld place or not, the house-elf was not obliged to tell him the truth. And Hermione was by no means blind and couldn't help but realise that Kreacher didn't exactly like his Master very much. And Harry was not his rightful Master so the Black house-elf could technically tell him anything he wanted. Were it true or false.

She should have seen that one coming, but she didn't hence the first reason why she was to blame for Sirius's death.

Her other reason was that she shouldn't have abandoned Harry when the Deatheaters caught up with them in the chamber with the Veil in it. That room had been incredible cold and horrifying. However, at the same time it felt like it was sucking her into it, not wanting to release her from its hold on her. She didn't know the name the Unspeakables gave the room in the first place but there was nothing more fitting than combining it with the word death.

It was the exact way she imagined death. Cold and horrifying. Once it got its eyes set on you it wouldn't let go.

'Merlin, why do I have so pessimistic thoughts today?' she asked herself. She half expected the other her to answer but there was nothing more than complete silence. It was eerie in a sense. She had gotten used to the many conversations she had with the voice but now it was gone.

Maybe she should have been sad that it was gone but she wasn't. She was relieved in a way that it wasn't going to moan and whine about every decision she made. Nevertheless she couldn't help but realise that she was feeling very different. She would have ascribed it to her getting rid of – 'no that is not the right word for it' she told herself. She would have ascribed it to her smothering every feeling she had for the dog Animagus but at the same time she knew that wasn't it.

It was something else entirely. Looking around for her wand, she spotted it sticking out from her cloak pocket. Getting out of her bed, she changed into some clothes she pulled out of her trunk and once she was clothed she walked towards the cloak hanging on the door.

Taking hold of her wand, she expected to feel the rush of energy she got every time she got her hand around the piece of thin wood. But this time, she didn't feel a thing. 'This is weird…' she thought as she cast a simple accio, wanting to summon the letter that was haphazardly lying on her bed. What she didn't expect was the force with which it crashed right into her face, almost gouging her eye.

"What in the…" she muttered to herself as she picked up the piece of parchment from the floor. Spotting a book on the only table in her room, she pointed her book at it and muttered a quiet "Wingardium Leviosa". She was sure she did everything correctly, either the wand movement or the incantation, she was one hundred percent sure she didn't make a mistake, and yet the book shot into the air with such a force that it ended up crashing against the ceiling with a loud bang which led to her loosing concentration. With another loud thud, it fell down onto the desk, leaving Hermione with eyes bugged out like she had just seen someone come back from the dead.

"Okay, so spells are a bit wonky…" she recited out loud, stating the obvious while trying to keep her cool. This was more than freaky. "What is it that I wanted to try? Ah,yes, the Animagus transformation…" she said out loud, trying to calm her nerves.

Closing her eyes, she concentrated on pushing her magic out of her core throughout her whole body. It felt like she was being doused in incredibly cold liquid. Supressing the shudder from the sudden cold, she concentrated on her beautiful wolf. On her Shadow.

Eyes still closed, she felt her legs shortening, her head transforming into the one of her wolf. The pain was excruciating. It felt like her intestines were being stretched and pulled from all sides. It felt like her head was being split in two. She heard her bones breaking and mending back together. A scream of incredible pain escaped her mouth but was soon replaced by a loud howl. And then, the pain was over.

She felt something weird on her back and turned round to see what it was. But not being used to walking on four legs, she immediately crumbled to the floor, her limbs tangled together. This gave her the opportunity to observe her new body and she spotted the thing that bothered her so much just a moments ago.

She had a tail. Curiously, she lifted it up and down, swishing it from side to side. Advancing the new part of her anatomy with wonder she craned her wolfish head forward and snapped her tail with her sharp teeth. Yelping in pain she darted away. But still not being used to moving on four legs, she crushed into her bed.

Whining, she laid down on the floor. She felt like something was missing, like there should be someone playing with her, chasing her, someone with dark and soft yet shaggy fur. What her human part managed to push away, her canine part felt even more. Whining even more loudly, she covered her snout with her front paws, efficiently blocking the view she had of the door.

But her hearing still worked, now amplified because of her being a wolf. It didn't take long for her to hear the commotion at her door and in no time, two read heads stumbled in through the door.

"Hermione, are you…" one of them began to say, but then he spotted the most beautiful creature lying on the floor.

"Fred!" he quickly alerted his brother who was standing right behind him. And then, even the second Weasley twin was staring at the canine lying at the feet of Hermione's bed.

Even though Hermione didn't see them, she was very much aware of the stares the two of them were giving her.

"Hermione?" Fred asked her tentatively and this time, Hermione couldn't help but raise her head and look at them with her huge shiny blue eyes.

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><p><strong>AN: Yay! Finally has her wolf side there. I think the broody part of the story is over, even though there will come some pretty sad moments... It wouldn't be my story if there weren't... :D I have to say that I'm still quite unsure as to how to deal with the whole Sirius situation. I thought I had it all thought out, but then, there are some things that are undecided yet. Next chapter is going to be fun so stay tuned and REVIEW! :-)**


	8. Shadow, the She-Wolf

_Previously:_

"_Hermione?" Fred asked her tentatively and this time, Hermione couldn't help but raise her head and look at them with her huge shiny eyes. _

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><p>The boys were startled by the depth of her stormy dark blue eyes. Two, almost black pools were drawing them in, piercing their souls and they couldn't help but feel as though her gaze touched their hearts.<p>

They had absolutely no idea that she was attempting to become an Animagus, but the first thought that went through their minds was that they shouldn't have been surprised by this turn of events. Though she was a beautiful wolf, one of the most intriguing and marvellous creatures they had ever set their eyes upon, they sensed that something was terribly wrong with her.

Her ears with white edges should have been alert and not downcast as if they've just scolded her. She should be running around the room and not lying resignedly on the floor. Neither of the boys realised the obvious reason for the mournful behaviour of the she-wolf.

Crouching in front of her Fred slowly stretched his arm forward, indicating that he was going to pet her head. Not wanting to get his hand bit of, he advanced slowly, maintaining eye contact with the animal in front of him.

She was indeed a strange wolf. Her fur should be grey-ish as was the usual but instead it was almost pitch black. The top of her ears were white, as were her paws and the tip of her tail. She had a white spot near her muzzle which seemed like a freckle. Her unbelievably huge eyes observed him as his hand etched closer and closer.

What he thought would be rough fur was actually as soft as baby's skin. It flowed through his fingers like the gentlest stream of water. It was so light that he almost didn't feel it touching the palm of his hand.

Being scratched at her ears felt like heaven. She inclined her head to the side which prompted the Weasley twin to pet her in earnest and she couldn't help but close her eyes at the blissful feeling. This close proximity enabled her to smell all of those wonderful scents that enveloped the man kneeling in front of her. He smelled of caramel fudge, Fluxweed and freshly laundered clothes.

However, these sweet scents were soon replaced by an abhorring stench coming from George's direction. Crinkling her nose in disgust, she earned herself a laugh from Fred.

"See, I told you stepped into that filth on the street! She can smell it too!" Fred didn't waste any time mocking his twin.

What even the ever observant Fred failed to notice was the way the wolf in front of him cringed at his loud voice. Being fed up with lying on the floor when she could be running around on four legs, she attempted to stand up again, only this time, she went about it in a different way.

Stretching her front legs as far as she could, she then put her right paw right under her furry body and slowly, clumsily, she managed to sit up. She felt like a puppy who didn't have time to learn how to move around. Which she didn't…

Finally, after struggling for a few seconds, she managed to bend her spine just the right way for her to sit up.

Fred, who was still kneeling in front of her, observed her with curiosity shining through his eyes. He had never seen a dog Animagus before. Of course he knew McGonagall was a cat Animagus but that old professor was just so accomplished with her human transfiguration that he could stare at her all day long and he wouldn't percept any difference between her in her Animagus form and an actual cat.

Hermione, on the other hand, seemed very new to this. He even wondered whether this was her first transformation.

She was a bit surprised by the view the changed position brought her. As she was no longer lying on the floor, she was able to see on her bed, out of the window or through the open door as well.

The only thing left to do was picking up her butt of the floor so she could stand properly. What she supposed would be an easy task, soon began to irritate the hell out of her. First, she managed to step on her tail as she was standing up which led to her falling again form shock, and having to repeat the whole process of sitting up again. Fortunately, this time, it took her not even a second.

Then, her front leg somehow managed to bend itself so she was standing only on three legs which led to some serious loss of balance. So once more, she had to do it all over again.

Nevertheless, she didn't let this deter her. She knew form the journal by the Slytherin writing in green ink that it took some time for her animal side to gain the usual reflexes of the animal she became – in her case a wolf. Even though she already had the smell, sight and hearing of the canine family she lacked their agility and gracefulness of movement. Well, practice makes the master and there isn't anyone who would understand this statement better than her.

What looked like a total disaster in the beginning became one of the most exhilarating experiences in her life. She ran through the apartment, jumped on sofas, rolled around in her bed which ended up with her tearing one of the feather cushions. White tiny feathers were floating all around the room and she jumped in the air like a small child on a Christmas morning wanting to catch at least one of the little feathers.

Snapping at the plumes that looked as if they were swinging to and fro on calm waves in the ocean, she managed to catch at least ten of them. Subsequently she had to rid herself of the small threads that were stuck on her pink tongue, nevertheless, she still grinned like a fool. Well, as much as a wolf can grin and not look completely menacing.

She lost her human side altogether and let herself be consumed by the animalistic part of her. But after a while, she realised that even the best game of fetch (mind you, even wolves can get caught up in that) wouldn't fill the cold that spread through her body. At first she didn't know where it came from.

She tried and tried to remember something, anything, which would make her feel that way, so wound up, so agitated but every time she did, she came up with nothing. All those memories… She was sure she was supposed to experience at least some of those feelings she was sure she once did. But she didn't.

And in that moment she realised that pushing it all away so she wouldn't feel it anymore wasn't the solution to her utter desolation. Far from it.

Being in such a primal state as an Animagus brought out all of what she desperately tried to squish by the infinity of her mind. She wanted to push it back as she did when she was human but found out that she couldn't do it. Her bond to Sirius was so strong that her wolf refused to part with it. Shadow, as she began to call herself, felt it even more deeply than she did when she banished all those feelings away.

Realising that one day, and that day would come sooner rather than later, she would have to deal with all of those repressed emotions and she saw that that day wouldn't be good. Not good at all. She was aware of the fact that what she had just done this morning was an act against nature.

Why? You should never, ever separate a memory from the emotion it induced in you. Because when you do, your mind becomes hazy and chaotic and after a while, it starts to push those hidden feelings and emotions back to those memories who lack them. And it isn't gradually, it happens all at once, as if an avalanche came rushing down on you.

She was aware of all those warnings, nevertheless she paid no head to such silly notice. She thought it silly just an hour or two ago, but now? Now she wasn't so sure if it was such a good idea in the first place.

Knowing that a wolf cocking its head to the side at nothing in the middle of a room must be a rather strange site, she concentrated on transforming herself back to her human form.

Her short legs stretched and she felt it all. She felt her tendons rupturing and attaching back to the bone, she felt her nails slip back under the skin of her fingers. She felt the fur descend back into her skin and if felt like tiny needles were prickling her skin everywhere. Her cheeks were wet from the tears that cascaded down from her eyes, her chest heaved with laboured breathing.

Her body laid on the floor in the foetus position, her knees clutched to her chest as she tried to calm down her racing heart.

Hoping that the next transformation wouldn't be so darn painful she pulled herself to the side so she was sitting up and leaning against the headboard of her bed, she wiped her tears with the back of her hand.

Muscles she didn't know she had till now ached like never before, and yet a goofy smile appeared on her face. After almost a year of trying and failed attempts, she became an Animagus. She didn't see her form in real life, but she was more than content with the image she got form the many trips to visit her inner Shadow.

Looking around herself she found out she was sitting in a heap of feathers. The whole floor was dusted with the white soft plumage that was once inside the many pillows lying on her bed.

Giggling to herself, she searched for her Vinewood wand. Spotting it lying on the table, she dragged herself off the ground. Suddenly it occurred to her that Remus must have been going through something like this every month, every year since his early childhood. And she was sure that for him, it was even more painful than what she had just experienced.

Clutching the piece of wood in her hand she mutter a quick _'Reparo'_. Unfortunately, she forgot all about the incidents with her wonky magic this morning. As if on cue, all of the pillows that were still left in one peace before she decided to rip them apart as a wolf blew up spectacularly.

Hermione didn't even budge, she just stared at the room that was once again bathed in floating feathers. A silent curse was left on her lips, as her mouth hanged open. A tiny feather flew into her nose which made her sneeze rather loudly.

* * *

><p>The twins had decided that one of them would stay at their apartment at all times in case Hermione woke up. The days flew by one by one and even though she was awake for a few hours one evening, she spent over a week asleep.<p>

On the morning of the eleventh day, it was Monday which was a day off for them, Fred decided to lie in, while his twin went out to buy some fresh pastry in a nearby muggle bakery. They found it just a week ago and were completely blown away by the bakery counter brimming with amounts of rolls, bread, cakes, pies and many other treats.

George came back with the usual – some fresh apple pie and still warm half a loaf of bread. Setting it back on their dining table, he went to his room to change clothes and on his way there, he was met by Fred who just came back from checking on their shop.

These were dangerous times and even though the boys had a day off, one of them still checked on the wards they put up every night. The Diagon Alley was slowly clearing out, people were selling their apartments, their shops – many windows were already boarded up.

Nevertheless their shop managed to bring some much needed cheer to the now misty and cold thoroughfare of Wizarding Britain.

Hearing a shriek of pain coming from their guest's room they rushed through the hallway and opened the door ferociously for the first time that day.

The second time came when they heard a loud bang coming from her room, as if one of their fireworks just blew up. Hoping that it wasn't anything serious George gave Fred a look that clearly said that he was the one to deal with the crisis.

It took the twins only a few moments to find out who was the better one of them to deal with whatever their guest brought upon them. Fred's disposition to be able to think deeply about the issue at hand, to be able to understand someone who kept a better part of themselves hidden from prying eyes of gossipers, even their closest friends.

Swiftly walking towards the door that was left slightly open, he peered through the crack in-between the door and its frame. Small fuzzy threads were floating in the air and were gleaming as the light reflected through them. Pushing the door ajar with his hand, he gazed into a room full of floating feathers.

Laughing out loud he observed the gobsmacked expression on Hermione's face and the helpless look she gave him as she stared at him.

"You had a pillow fight and didn't invite me?" Fred exclaimed with mock hurt as he clutched the palms of his hands to his chest.

"I…" Hermione started to say but couldn't find the words to express her incredulousness.

With just a wave of his wand, Fred managed to repair the ragged pillows and the feathers scattered all over the floor filling those plush cushions again. Seeing the ease with which the wizard in front of her restore what she had destroyed just a moments ago made realise just what a mess she was in.

"My magic is a bit eh- dodgy…" Hermione muttered rolling the wand between her fingers.

"What do you mean dodgy?" Fred asked her intrigued. He already knew that she was a true sorceress when it came to magic and even thinking that there might be something wrong with that incredible gift of hers hurt his heart.

"Watch…" Hermione said as she pointed her wand at the book that she had previously attempted to levitate. Loud and clear she said the incantation of the levitation charm and with trepidation she watched as the book abruptly leapt in the air with incredible force.

Fred watched as the girl – no, woman in front of him waved her wand and performed a first year spell to utter perfection. But despite her flawlessness and fluidity of her movement and incantation, one of the easiest spells ended up terribly wrong.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: And here's the chapter you all wanted so badly, I wrote it during only one afternoon nevertheless I hope it's still good despite the rashness of my writing. I don't know when I'll find the time to write another chapter so I'm sorry if you're going to wait for a bit... What did you think about it? :-)**

**Thanks for reading and please REVIEW :-)**


	9. Power and Fear

_It is not power that corrupts but fear. Fear of losing power corrupts those who wield it and fear of the scourge of power corrupts those who are subjected to it._

_- Aung San Suu Kyi_

* * *

><p>"Oy, George!" Fred shouted his brother's name after he snapped out of the shock Hermione brought him in.<p>

"What now, Freddie?" The other twin hollered across the apartment annoyed for he was currently enjoying his very tasty breakfast. A Weasley can think only after they've eaten (and that applies also for the females in their family) and right now, his brother - his brother mind you, who should understand their peculiar disposition, decided to disturb his morning peace and the brilliant one sided conversation he had with the scrambled eggs on his plate.

"Come 'ere" he heard him call. Angrily he deposited the cutlery on his plate and with a murderous expression stood up and strode towards what was now Hermione's room.

"What Fred?" He snapped at the other red head.

What many people didn't see and realise was that even though they were twins, the closest pair of twins you can get, it by no means meant that they were blindly in love with each other or something similarly preposterous... True, they knew each other better than they knew themselves which led to far less fights than in a 'usual' sibling relationship. Nevertheless that didn't mean there weren't any fights at all, it didn't mean that they didn't occasionally snap at each other - like just a few moments ago.

He expected everything but the placid expression on his twin's face and the terribly frightened one on their guest's.

Not really knowing the reason for their sudden need of his person, as usual, he asked Fred what was going on.

"Show him Hermione" His twin who had a very soft spot for the Gryffindor prompted the girl standing in the room as far away from them as possible. That alone should have told him that there was something off about this whole situation.

Hermione only raised her brow delicately, not really seeing the point in acting like a trained circus monkey.

"As you wish' she murmured. Knowing that low power spells seemed to end up in a complete catastrophe, she tried to think of something different.

Finally deciding on a simple, but power consuming lighting charm, she pointed her wand at the candle in its candlestick attached to the blood-red wall and muttered the incantation.  
>She wouldn't give it a rest and as she attempted to perform yet another spell, she saw just how much power she now possessed.<p>

A huge cloud of angry red and yellow flames left her wand, heating it up to unbearable temperatures. Dropping the feeble piece of wood on the floor, she watched as the fire slowly went out, but managed to destroy the one thing she refused to ever give away. Her wand.

It caught on fire as easily as a pile of dried hay. The three of them watched as gentle flames licked the thin piece of wood, as the core that was once irreversibly inserted inside flew out and sparkled as it was met with fresh air. They watched the once unbearable weapon curl up like a ball of yarn until it disintegrated and became ash.

"Well, Ollivander still hasn't closed down..." George tried to lighten up the mood but failed miserably.

"Aye dear brother of mine, that one hasn't closed down yet..." Fred murmured looking at Hermione with concern. She looked even more panicky than before. Well, watching your wand getting burnt to crisp right in front of your eyes will do that to you.

The funny thing was that the moment her beloved piece of wood disintegrated, it felt like the last thread of those bonds around her core broke. As soon as she lost the connection that feasted on her magic, she became aware just how much it restrained her since the beginning. Her fingers prickled with pent-up energy like they hadn't ever since she first met Dumbledore. A part of her was hers again and no one was going to take that away from her.

But she still needed her wand since she had absolutely no idea how to do wandless magic. A wand was what she needed and it was what she would get, whatever it took (those few steps to cross the street and enter Ollivander's didn't seem like a difficult task...)

Understanding what they meant with their previous statement about closing down, she shooed them out of her room with a newfound vigour and quickly dressed herself.

Even though that most of the time she ended up wearing black skinny jeans that looked like they were painted on and t-shirts of her favourite rock bands, ever since she was able to observe the crème de la crème of the wizarding society while she worked in the shop under Madame Cannelle she began to adore what those women wore.

The only dress she owned was the one she bought last summer while shopping with Remus. It might sound weird to some but the werewolf had incredible patience when it came to the shopping whims of his best friend's girl. Her heart felt if someone pinched it at that thought but that lasted only for a second. Her feelings were still safely tucked away at the bottom of her mind and weren't getting out anytime soon.

Putting the intricate dress on, she observed as it flowed down over her curves like liquid silk. Even though she was still rather small, it didn't stop her from having beautiful long legs and a nice body (thanks to the nightly flying trips and practicing magic like a martial arts). One could say she had a body and grace of a ballet dancer.

Even though she didn't notice it most of the time, if she ever did, the way she moved, the way she practised her magic gave those around her a feeling of inferiority. But not in a bad way. She looked so obvious to it all, so innocent that most of those around her didn't fault her for it. She was born with the decorum of an aristocrat and everybody thought the same when they found the time to get to know her and saw exactly that. But as soon as this notion entered their minds, they dismissed it because of its absurdity.

Only the families of the Seven were born with this kind of grace and suave. The Black's, Darwin's, Peverell's, Bones's, Eadwig's and Godwin's were the one of the Seven of the Wizarding world, not that Hermione knew anything about that. Most of those families were wiped out, especially because each and every dark wizard was afraid of their immense power and influence.

And the seventh one? They were supposed to be the most powerful out of the group but people could only guess who they were.

Only about fifty or so years ago their world had been at its height. But then Grindelwald and Voldemort came and destroyed what the former managed to leave in one piece. The power of the Seven diminished, as did the glory of the whole wizarding world.

However that didn't stop the many families from trying to impersonate what they could never be. Women clothed in robes worthy of royalty, throwing money away every chance they got. But their tastes and manners were still impeccable and from time to time Hermione thought about what it would be like to live like that. A peasants dream she called it, being one hundred percent sure that something like that would never happen.

And in one such a state she brought the dress she was wearing now. It reached to just above her ankles as was the custom for wizarding robes. The dress had a sweetheart neckline and almost an inch thick straps that held the dress in place. The corset like black top glazed her body like a man's hand marvelling at the smoothness of a sculpture of Italian women.

At her waist, the silk began to flow more freely, its many layers completely fanning out at her feet. From the darkest of shade of black it slowly changed into the lightest shades of grey. Surprisingly, her dragon-hide boots came rather well with the whole look.

Pulling out the pendant from under her dress she carefully laid it on top of the soft fabric, not caring one bit about the fact that someone might recognise it for what it is – a possession found only in the Black family.

The only thing she wasn't accustomed to yet was her strange hair. She did notice it getting darker from its usual dull light brown to the now dark mahogany black colour over the course of the last few months. What was new though, were the almost white strands framing her face in gentle yet pronounced curls. It oddly reminded her of her Shadow. 'When did that happen?' She asked herself as she fastened the leather pouch with some of her money around her waist. Grabbing her cloak she checked the overall product in the mirror and with a content smile went in search of the twins.

"Well that was quick..." George observed looking up from his cup of lukewarm tee as the distinct click of heels resonated throughout the hallway. He was a bit surprised by what he saw. The once bushy hair girl stood there before them like a completely different person. Slightly smirking, he set down his now cold and disgusting cup of tea and strode towards the door.

Fred, however, didn't offer any enlightening comments as per usual, only stood up from the sofa he dozed off on and drowsily went towards them and like a gentleman opened the door for her and followed the enigmatic woman outside.

It had been more than a week, more than two weeks actually if her estimations were correct, since she had last stepped outside onto the fresh air. It was around two o'clock in the morning and a Monday at that and Diagon Alley was almost completely empty.

Even though the street was full of bright summery light, the air was crisp, moody and dark. Goosebumps appeared all over her arms and she clutched her cloak closer to her body to brace herself from the cold. Her cloak provided her with gentle warmth and a sense of calm strange calm overcame her senses.

The journey to Ollivander's wand shop wasn't long, it took the group of three less than five minutes to walk towards the murky shop that supplied most of the Wizarding Britain with their wands.

Taking a hold of the handle, Hermione softly and eagerly pushed the door open, unaware of the feeling she would get as soon as she stepped inside.

Her magic, still not used to being allowed to flow freely without any restrictions reacted rather violently when it was met with the energy of the enumerable pieces of magical wood and cores. It wanted to touch every piece of that strangeness that were the wands, it wanted to stretch its wings like it had never done before.

Hermione felt like she was stretched on the rack. Only she wasn't being pulled solely by her arms and legs, she was pulled by her magic. The twins sensing her distress surrounded her like a flock of pigeons and asked her at least ten times if she was ok.

But no sooner did she reply then the owner of the shop himself made an appearance.

"I didn't expect to see you ever again Miss. Vinewood, dragon heartstring core, 10 ¾ inches long, good for charms if I recall" Mr. Ollivander stated with practised ease. But then the silvery haired frail man looked at the girl who was standing her with so much pain etched on her face and sudden sense of understanding washed over him.

"I wouldn't fight it dearie" he said as he strode towards the counter at the forefront of his shop.

Hermione, who was still fruitlessly trying to pull back on the invisible chains that were stretching them to all sides, gave up and a sudden feeling of abandon and gratefulness sprang up from within her. Quickly recovering from her sudden panic attack (she didn't find any more suitable name for what had just happened to her) she smiled at the man who had sold her her first wand that was met by such an unfortunate end.

"Yes you do remember correctly, Mr. Ollivander" she replied politely while wondering why he didn't say her name as he did the last time. A very old memory told her that this man standing in front of her remembered each and every wand he sold and whom he sold it to.

"Ah and Messrs Weasley, do you by chance have problems with the wands I sold you seven years ago?" Mr. Ollivander asked, confirming Hermione's suspicion that he indeed did remember everything. But he also seemed to like stalling.

"Not today Mr. Ollivander" Fred answered politely, even though a tad stiffly. "We – well, not we exactly-" George started to say but Fred continued instead of him.

Somehow, they managed to supress their incredible need to speak as one today and Mr. Ollivander was incredibly grateful for that. He did have a soft spot for twins since they were tricky to sort out and he loved the challenge. But when these two opened their mouths the first time they were here it led to some rather unfortunate accidents which he would better refrain from mentioning ever again. Merlin knew their mother had a patience of a god.

"What Georgie here's trying to say that Missy fidgety here-" "Hey I do not fidget!" she exclaimed angrily but Fred interrupted her as easily as he did his brother and continued as if she never said anything "is in a need of a new wand." He concluded and stepped back, giving Hermione space to explain her situation by herself.

"And why is it that you need a new wand Miss?" Ollivander asked her, refusing to say her surname. 'Did it reach him too that I'm not really Miss Granger?' Hermione asked herself as she perused him with her eyes.

The last time she was here she was a bit scared – well, freaked out is a better word for it, and didn't pay much attention to the man who supplied her with one of her most precious possessions. The one she regarded as the most cherished one was the pendant hanging around her neck. And since her cloak was left unclasped, the black diamond flickered in the light being cast on it by the many candles in the shop.

She didn't miss the wandering eye of the wandmaker and the curiosity in them as soon as he spotted what was hung around her neck on the silver chain. Nevertheless, the ever-inquisitive Mr. Ollivander didn't even attempt to remark anything or ask her how she came to be in possession of such a jewel. Instead, he rubbed his hands together and cast her a questioning look which reminded her that she hadn't answered his question yet.

"How much of what I say here will make its way to stranger's ears?" she asked him wanting to be sure that what was said here would also stay here. The twins, who were sitting comfortably each on one of the two armchairs which were in the shop, looked at each other completely baffled by her mistrusting behaviour. But they soon went back to what they were discussing before.

"Well Miss, I assure you that none of what is said in here is repeated elsewhere. One's wand is a very intimate topic. But of course, I cannot vouch for your entourage…" he said with a slight tilt of his head in the direction of the two ginger-haired men.

Hermione, not wanting to discuss their blind obedience towards Dumbledore, came up with another way of keeping their conversation quiet. It wasn't that she didn't trust the two. She was only too paranoid, sometimes for her own good, when it came to openly discussing her private matters.

Casting a sideway glance at her company she realised the two of them were in their very own bubble, literally. She had to laugh at the mischievous gleam in their eyes that told her they were discussing their joke shop.

"Maybe, Mr. Ollivander, it would be prudent to cast a prolonging charm on that bubble of theirs" she said with a conspiratorial smirk that warmed the old man's heart. It was nice to see that the young generation still managed to keep its free spirit. Pointing his wand at the two of them he made sure that they would have at least half an hour of privacy.

"Now Miss, would you like to finally enlighten me as to why you find yourself without a wand?"

"Well, first of all you need to know that my magic was bound since my very first time I came to visit the wizarding world. I am not completely sure if that has anything to do with the wand that chose me. It doesn't matter who was behind this action, though I presume that _you_ are able to at least guess…"

And indeed, Ollivander could take a guess, easily at that, at who bound the girl's core. There was only one person in their world who would do such a foulness out of sheer fear. Albus Dumbledore. And if his guess was right he did it because of someone who was once a frighteningly sweet boy able to wrap you around his little finger. Tom Riddle.

When it came to sheer ominousness, one could be sure that Garrick Ollivander knew far more than the Hogwarts Headmaster. But he didn't flaunt his knowledge and instead burrowed himself deep into the study of wandlore, the most tricky and slippery part of magic.

"Before I came to Hogwarts I was able to perform controlled magic – wandless is the right term for it I suppose, and it didn't take me long to realise that something was wrong once I was at Hogwarts and couldn't practise magic with the ease I was used to. I did some research… I do not claim to understand wandlore, but I found out that according to some general rules, the wand that chose me wasn't the one for me…"

"Very good Miss, do go on" Ollivander prompted her, never being able to be witness to such an occurrence that was happening in front of him. As he looked at her, he began to notice things which were unusual, nevertheless well hidden by what he supposed to be an oblivious exterior. Her posture was one of a lady, her expression cold and way of speaking to the point, yet it left you guessing.

There was something about her but he couldn't quite put his finger on it. He was sure that the next wand that chose her would be one of his most magnificent creations, even though in the back of his mind there was doubt. He wasn't entirely sure whether she would find a match in those stacks of boxes with a single wand each.

And the pendant hanging around her neck. He sure didn't have the slightest idea as for how Sirius Black's name stone appeared upon Miss Hermione's bosom. Did the two of them meet? He always thought that the night the one-who-must-not-be-named died was a bit sketchy. Young Mister Potter and Black were as close as they come and those two couldn't betray each other. So was it possible that after the latter managed to escape from that god-awful place in the north he stumbled upon the elusive Miss whose surname he didn't know an became what? Friends?

Shaking his head in order to stop wondering about frivolities he turned his attention back to Miss Hermione.

"Around Christmas, and many times before that, my magic – there was something amiss with it. So with the help of some people" she made a gesture with her hand as she said the last word, indicating that she would rather leave those people unmentioned.

Seeing him nod his head in understanding she continued. "I found out my magical core was bound. Some things happened since then and my magic went loose. I'm fairly certain that at the present, there are no more bounds. Nevertheless the sudden change in my magic turned my last wand into ash" Hermione stated coldly, looking the older man straight in the eye.

He did not flinch, he didn't even look surprised at the fact that she managed to burn her own wand.

"Well, we have to look for another one then…" he said as if just went into heaven. Bestowing one of her rare honest smiles at him, she watched as he disappeared into the many rows of shelves that were at the back of his shop.

If she didn't know better she would think he had forgotten all about her from the way he let her waiting. She didn't count the minutes, that would be rude, but she was sure he spent more than half an hour in-between those many shelves and boxes.

By then the twins got up from their chairs, clearly already finished with everything they needed to discuss.

"Don't think we didn't notice that the old master put some spell on us" George whispered in her ear but Hermione acted as if she didn't hear him. "Actually, we would like to thank you, you see, for you did us an incredible favour" Fred shushed in her ear from the other side. And even though Hermione managed to keep her disinterested expression, her eyes gleamed at the prospect of pissing them off.

After another five minutes of pointless staring, fidgeting, pacing and biting of nails Mr Ollivander finally remerged carrying what Hermione suspected to be at least thirty wand boxes. And the testing began.

"Ash, Dragon heartstring 12 ½ inches, pleasantly subtle" Mr Ollivander handed her a wand he just took out and Hermione stretched her hand for it in excitement. But as soon as her fingers touched the wand, it sprang away from her as if having a mind on its own.

"No, not that one" and he immediately snatched it away.

"Hawthorn, Phoenix Feather, 10 inches, slightly bendy" he tried another one and Hermione eyed it with wary eye. There was something terribly wrong with this wand. But despite her instinct she reached for the dark wood. Which it obviously didn't like. It heated up so much that Hermione had to drop it to the floor where it combusted into a set of fireworks.

"Nope, obviously not that one" Mr Ollivander observed and handed her yet another piece. This one, though, didn't look so bad.

"Willow, Unicorn hair, 10 ¾ inches, swishy" he handed it to her and with a loving touch Hermione took it. But it did nothing. Absolutely nothing.

"Hmm…." He murmured as he practically yanked it out of her hand. Hermione would have thought that he at least had some manners.

"What about this one. Dogwood, Thestral tail hair 9 ¼, rather playful." But even looking at it made her sick to her stomach and Hermione downright refuse to touch it.

"No?" he quirked his brow at her and searched for another option.

"Walnut, Phoenix feather, and 9 inches" This had to be her one hundredth wand she tried and still no luck. George had snuck out at least twice already, claiming he had some things to take care of but luckily, Fred still hadn't gotten bored.

"Do you keep count?" she asked him as Mr. Ollivander frowned for a good matter. "Actually, I do..." Fred answered "The next one will be lucky number 63" he said teasingly, having too much of a blast to pass up the opportunity to madden her a bit.

"Oh this is pointless!" Hermione exclaimed after she did try the wand number 63. And even though that Mr Ollivander did look excited by number 40, he had lost his initial rapture by now.

"Even though it pains me to say it, you are right..." he said, frowning even more. "I've never had such a difficult client as you. It would seem that none of the wand's I've ever made…" he didn't finish his thought as he was plunged deep into his mind, ideas whirling right before his eyes. Then out of the blue, the long lost vigour of the old man returned, even though it didn't take long for him to look immensely worried again.

"I wonder…" and with that he disappeared behind those infuriating shelves again, for the fourth time during their visit to the wandmaker's shop.

It didn't take him long to come back and when he did, he was carrying a singular box in his hands. It looked like a Pandora's Box – she had no other name for it. What was normally a black card box was a silver case with black sediments on it from not polishing it enough times. But that wasn't what was so frightening about the box. There were Celtic markings all over it. Markings she had no idea about.

Without opening it he handed her the case and as soon as it touched her hands she felt tingly all over. She knew then, that what was lying inside that box was going to be her wand. _Her _wand. Setting it down on the counter, she unclasped the latch and pulled the lid up. And she fell in love.

Just looking at it, she felt as if it was a wand made especially for her. Running her fingers all over the thin piece of wood, she marvelled at the prickly and exciting feeling she got just from touching it. Mustering up the courage that seemed to have abandoned her throughout this visit, she picked it up from its velvety cushion and gently wrapped her fingers around it.

Closing her eyes at the wondrous feeling she got, she thought she would never get to feel something so unimaginable, so empowering and irresistible ever again. Her toes curled up in her boots and a shiver ran down her spine. An enormous smile appeared on her face as she let herself be consumed by the sense of her magic.

Opening up her eyes, she thought of the only rose she ever managed to conjure and waving her hand in an intricate pattern she pictured it clear as day in her mind. And right before their very eyes, an almost otherworldly rose appeared out of thin air. Its petals were so dark and bright at the same time, the most bloody of reds, its leaves the riches of green and the smell, oh the smell. So sweet and spicy. So very rosy.

Breathing in the aroma of what she had just created she realised she had just done magic. And didn't demolish a thing. A rapturous laugh full of delight and true happiness came from her as she twirled around on the spot.

Fred looked at her pleased that she was smiling for a change and wasn't her usual gloomy self. But one look at the wandmaker made him worried again. Ollivander's expression with which he was looking at the girl in front reeked of fear and Fred couldn't help but wonder why.

Finally coming down from her high Hermione tucked the rose in her hair and looked at the wandmaker inquisitorially, clearly noticing the fear and a tad of curiosity flashing through his eyes.

"May I enquire about the nature of my wand?" she asked him courteously.

It wasn't his **place** to refuse her. Especially not _her_.

"I'm not the maker of this wand as you may have guessed already. It was made approximately two centuries ago by a spouse of an Ollivander. I believe her name was Aletheia. This wand isn't just one wood and one core wand." He explained warily.

"The inner part is made of Ebony with Unicorn heartstring"

Hermione heard Fred's sharp intake of breath as the last word left Ollivander's mouth. Nevertheless, she managed to keep her cool even though her legs started to shake. 'How bad can it get?' Hermione thought. Killing a Unicorn is one of the foulest and bravest acts there is. And the core of her wand is the result of such a murder. 'One of the cores!' she reminded herself and made herself concentrate on what Ollivander started to say.

"I can't tell you much about your wand but I can tell you the general affinity of it. If you've read anything about wandlore you will understand that everything I say is only relative. There is no way for me to precisely say how your new wand is for I am not the maker" and seeing Hermione's understanding nod, he continued.

"Ebony wood is an ambitious piece of wood. It will stay its ground and it will protect you as its new master. It's great for duelling and is almost as powerful as elder wood when it comes to pure unadulterated power.

"Before I continue, I need to ask you a question. And I need only one word from you which will answer it" He said cryptically.

"Do go on" Hermione said politely.

"What is magic?" his question nearly made her suck in all of the air around them. A year ago, Remus Lupin asked her the exactly same question. Not letting herself to go down that road, Hermione focused on what he was really asking her. And already having an inkling on the course of their conversation she said the one word he wished to hear from her

"Intent"

Nodding his head, the corners of his mouth twitched upwards. "Yes, now let me continue. Unicorn heartstring is a stubborn core, which will do greatly with the ebony wood it's set in. Their disposition makes them work surprisingly well together. They both protect what they see as theirs. Both of them have a strange affinity for duelling and they usually come out victorious. And both of them are highly independent.

"But do not let that fool you. It is a vengeful, ruthless, possessive core. It has its moments when it gets witty, mischievous, and at times downright sinister. Usually, people with Unicorn heartstring aren't known for their overflowing amounts of love. They do possess that ability, but do not give their love just to anyone…"

Hermione was completely immersed in the description of what seemed like one of the most dangerous wands in the world. She didn't know just how close she was to the truth. But it wasn't about the wand being one of the most dangerous beings in the world, it was her who they should fear.

"Unicorn hair is one of the most powerful cores there are and is a much desired dark core in the world."

"Do you want me here?" Fred asked Hermione at hearing that. She looked at him, sad that she could detect the slight distaste in his voice. "I will not make you go away if that's what you think. I also am not what you would call a Dark witch." She said almost reproachfully but immediately saw him relax.

Taking a deep breath, she turned back to the wandmaker who was giving her an understanding look. "Please continue" she said as she studied the wand clutched in her hand. Its strangely white, almost bone-like colour gave it an eerie look and Hermione couldn't help but wonder what kind of wood that was. 'Why's there a silver handle?' she asked herself

"The ebony wood is wrapped in two Thestral heartstrings. Its dedication, strong-willed, almost headstrong manner goes well with ebony and channels its energy even more. Its cunning, possessive, bordering on obsessive nature is nurtured by firm conviction and coldness. It's fiery, driven, resilient and above all incredibly passionate.

"The whole creation is encased in Yew wood which is bound to the three layers underneath by its determination, power and cunning. It's manipulative, calculating and observant. It is the most powerful among the dark woods, and among us, the wandmakers, it comes third in sheer power after elder and ebony. One of the rarest woods there is, I know only of one that I had managed to craft with it. Life and death, dark and fearsome reputation is that one of a yew wand." He concluded.

Gulping slightly, Hermione asked him "Whose wand is made out of yew wood?"

"Do take a guess Miss Hermione, but don't say his name, not inside my shop"

And in that moment Hermione understood. Lord Voldemort had a wand made of yew. Well, that is an interesting development as she eyed what looked like a harmless piece of wood lying across her palm.

"I see… And what is this for?" she asked him and pointed at what looked like a handle.

"Yew wood is extremely poisonous and the poison may leak from the wood – thus the handle. This one is wrought by the goblins and made especially for Aletheia Ollivander. It should fit your hand perfectly" and indeed it did though Hermione had no idea how that was possible. "It's the most powerful wand that has ever been created." He said, thinking of the Elder wand.

"How much do I owe you?" She asked him, deciding that there probably wasn't anything to be told about her wand anymore.

"You do not owe me anything Miss Hermione, you've already paid for your wand. Let's leave it at that." He looked deep in thought for a while and then added "Do pay a visit to the Gringotts' bank. I believe you should know about who you are" and with that last statement he disappeared back behind his shelves again.

"I need a drink" Fred remarked as he closed the door behind Hermione. "I really need a drink"

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><p><strong>AN: I must say I'm incredibly proud at myself for writing such a long and detailed chapter. Thanks to Anna Brelin the wand wood and core stuff wasn't as difficult as I pictured it. How did you like? Please review, i would like to hear your opinion about this one very much. :) thanks for reading!**


	10. Sorrow

**A/N: I loooove your reviews! Those who write their own stories understand how great it is to read that someone really likes your story! So thank you :)**

**Angstar53: You hit the nail on its head with what you wrote about - basically everything. I don't want to give away much, but be sure that Dumbledore's reaction is going to be as you put it - ah - Dumbledore's indeed going to shit a brick :D I won't say anything about Sirius since well, this part is solely about Hermione, but soon enough, the idea of what will come is going to appear. **

**Now without further ado, enjoy!**

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><p><em>Previously:<em>

"_You do not owe me anything Miss Hermione, you've already paid for your wand. Let's leave it at that." He looked deep in thought for a while and then added "Do pay a visit to the Gringotts' bank. I believe you should know about who you are" and with that last statement he disappeared back behind his shelves again. _

"_I need a drink" Fred remarked as he closed the door behind Hermione. "I really need a drink"_

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><p>Hermione couldn't help but giggle at that. Even though their world was hurtling into the abyss at the speed of light, she was feeling like she could conquer anything and everything. There was a skip in her step that had never been there. And for once in her life she didn't pay attention to what was going on around her.<p>

She twirled around and around, her open cloak fanning all around her, her hair flying in the soft breeze. If the wizards weren't already used to quirky behaviour they might have locked her up at St. Mungo's.

She looked like a dark fairy right then, shining with inner energy that seemed to push through the mist that descended upon the world. Her joyous laugh filled the hazy Diagon Alley as she danced around the very much freaked out Fred Weasley.

Never before had he seen her act as freely, as spontaneously as she did in that moment. He was still deep in thought from their lengthy visit to Ollivander's this morning and didn't pay much attention to the direction he was going but didn't crash into anybody. When he checked the watch he got from his parents for his and George's seventeen birthday, he found out that it was near lunch. And yet, the Diagon Alley was still empty.

He wasn't surprised, seeing he was already used to the quiet that came from announcing Voldemort's return.

"Why are you so gloomy, Freddie?" Hermione teased him with a huge smile on her face.

"Why are you so cheery?" He couldn't help but snap at her but immediately regretted his Weasley temper when he saw the smile fall off her face.

Fred wasn't a fool and still understood what Ollivander told Hermione about her wand. Those personalities weren't only for the wand but also for its owner. And terrifyingly, they all fit. To the dot.

Hermione didn't know, couldn't understand why he decided to be mean all of a sudden. Was it because of the fact that she was happy when she should be crying her heart out? Was it because she was now in a possession of a wand of its darkest kind? Was that it? He did have his doubts and she wasn't that sure that her simple objection – that she wasn't a dark witch – would diminish all his doubts.

Fred expected her to snap back at him, to behave insulted but no. Instead, she righted up her spine, her eyes becoming a startling shade of dark blue, her lips becoming a thin line.

"I see"

That was all she said to him. Turning on the spot, she marched towards her temporary home, not being sure whether she should stay there any longer.

Exasperated, Fred rushed after her, calling her name but she paid it no head. Swinging the door open, he watched her disappear inside the house.

Nobody noticed the hazel coloured almost amber eyes following the pair, nor the woman with black curly hair hidden by her cloak who was transfixed by the pendant hanging around Hermione's neck.

The man was there because he had a promise to fulfil. It warmed his heart to see that she didn't look as crushed as he had expected to be. But he wasn't happy with what had just occurred in front of his eyes. There was a visit in order, but not now, now he had to rest. With that final thought he went to the Leaky Cauldron, wanting to get out of this godforsaken place as fast as possible.

The woman, on the other hand, was still frozen to the spot, still staring at the door Hermione had just disappear followed by the young Weasley. Even though she swore of her family long ago, she still knew more than enough. How was it possible then that the girl wore a Black family heirloom when she was not a Black? Frowning, she too finally turned around and flooed home.

"Ah, home already?" George asked when he heard the door open.

"Yes, home already." He heard Hermione shout and then shut her door with a bang. Raising his brow in question, he wondered about what his brother had done now.

"Fred?"

"What George?" Fred asked him walking straight towards the liquor cabinet and taking out a bottle of some cheap Firewhiskey.

"Drinking before noon? What would our dear mother say…" George mocked him still having no idea what had just transpired.

"Yes drinking before noon"

"And why?" his twin asked him. The idea of taking care of a drunken Fred wasn't as appealing as when they were fifteen and booze was all they could think about. Booze and well, birds.

Their Firewhiskey wasn't as strong as the stuff that Sirius regularly chucked down at Grimmauld place. However, it was still strong and had the desired effect of mildly calming Fred's nerves. Pouring himself another glass, he plonked down besides George who was sitting on the sofa and writing something in the many papers that were spread in front of him.

"Well?" George pressed his brother who wasn't in much of a forthcoming mood. And so Fred started to explain everything that happened in the shop since he went back home. In the end, George was as white as Fred had been. If it was from surprise, fear or anything else only those two could tell.

On the other side of the apartment was Hermione sitting on her bed in a very, very bad mood. She didn't doubt that Fred would tell his twin exactly what happened and then where would she be?

She knew very well the attitude of a Weasley, any Weasley. All Slytherins are bad, everything that has the prefix dark is dark by default. And once they form their opinion, they wouldn't be swayed.

"Stubborn redheads!" Hermione cursed aloud. She would need to stay here since she had practically no other possibility. But she knew that the coming days would be weird, to put it mildly. And she had been right.

The days following her trip to Ollivander's were awkward to say the least. The twins spend all of their time in their shop, leaving Hermione wonder about the apartment and wallow in her indecision.

She was considering everything that Ollivander told her and so far hadn't reached any valuable conclusion. What did he mean when he said she should find out who she was? Who was Aletheia Ollivander? Why did she choose such a dark wand? The questions were piling up and the answers were nowhere in sight.

It was the evening on the next Monday when she thought she would go crazy. Someone knocked on the of the Weasley apartment and because of its thin doors she was able to hear one of the Weasley boys invite them in. She was still in the safe confinements of her room. It wasn't that she was afraid of the twins. No, that wasn't it. She was fed up with their accusing stares and questioning glances they gave her when they thought she wasn't looking.

So yet again, she plunged herself into the study of Voldemort's tactics and MO. She almost missed the knock on her door. Carelessly waving her wand in the direction of her door, she opened it and went back to her reading.

She didn't care who went in, supposing it was one of the twins. But as soon as the scent of the person standing at her door hit her nose, she instinctively knew who it was, and it wasn't one of the twins.

Ever since her first Animagus transformation a week ago, she began to sleep in her wolf form. Her connection to her Shadow grew stronger and stronger and her human part began to embrace it as well. And a heightened sense of smell was the first thing she had noticed so far.

"Hello Remus" she greeted him, still not taking her eyes of the many copies of newspaper spread on her bed.

"Hello Hermione" he greeted her, still at the door. Noticing the fact as well, Hermione raised her head and beckoned him in. With another flick of her wand, her door was closed and secured against any wondering ears.

"How may I help you Remus?" she asked him as she sat Indian-style on her bed and pointed towards the only chair in her room. Understanding what she meant, he sat down on it and leaned back with a sigh.

"How long have you been cooped up in here?" he asked her in return, avoiding her previous question.

"About a week, if you don't count the days I spent asleep…" she told him with a sigh, twirling her wand in her hand. It became a habit of hers, her paranoia of losing her wand again completely consuming her.

"And do you plan on spending the rest of your summer holidays locked up?" he wondered with a smirk on his face.

"Well, if those two stopped behaving around me like I had dragon-pox… I mean, all I ever did was chose something that they didn't like, actually it isn't my fault that the blasted wand chose me!" Once the words started to pour out of her mouth, she wasn't able to stop them. She craved human contact, someone to talk to and her self-imposed exile to her room certainly didn't help that.

Remus, noticing the way her wand twitched at Hermione's defamatory words, smiled at her sadly. Hermione, being the ever observant her she was, couldn't help but exclaim "See, even you look at me differently!"

"That's not true Hermione!" Remus objected angrily. He wasn't one to be pushed around and he wouldn't stand for Hermione falsely accusing him.

"I don't even know what your wand's made of, so tell me how would I be able to judge you because of it? Don't you think you make too much of big deal out of it? It _is _only a wand!" Remus couldn't help but say.

"Only a wand? How can you say that?" Hermione exclaimed, throwing her hands in the air in anger.

"I say that because of what I see! Hermione, you're still the same person and a different wand doesn't change anything about that." Remus said gently.

"What are you doing here?" Hermione asked him for the second time that evening.

"I – I got a letter from Gringotts, asking me if by chance I knew a certain Miss Hermione. They don't have your surname." Remus explained but Hermione sensed he was avoiding something.

"There's something you're leaving out. What?" she didn't want to pry, but she was fed up with people always leaving out some important information.

Taking a deep breath Remus said what he desperately tried to avoid "There's going to be a reading of Sirius's will tomorrow and I – I was asked to bring you along."

"What?" was Hermione's only reaction to the news.

"I said – "

"I know what you said" Hermione interrupted him.

There was quiet for a while. The only thing that Remus heard was the beating of their two hearts. He expected her to have a different reaction. The two of them - Sirius and Hermione - had been together since well, since practically the moment Hermione crossed the threshold of Grimmauld place for the first time. Her desperate cries were still etched in his brain from the moment Tonks told her he had died and yet, here she sat on her bed, completely unfazed.

There was something terribly wrong with this image but he couldn't put his finger on it. There was another thing he needed to ask her and then he would be free to wonder about her sense of calm all he wanted.

But she beat him to it.

"There's another thing you needed to ask me otherwise you wouldn't be still sitting here"

She _had_ changed, even though he had claimed otherwise just minutes ago. She had never been this brusque or cold towards him. Where was the Hermione he had known and loved like a brother his younger sister?

"Gone" he thought he heard her whisper but ascribed it to his exhaustion from the full moon just days ago. He must have been hallucinating, that was it…

"Yes, well, Andromeda – she's –"

"I know who she is Remus, but what does she have to do with anything?"

Shaking his head at her, he continued "She asked me about a week ago if you'd like to come live with her" and with that simple sentence, her whole demeanour changed.

"Really?" she asked him with a hopeful smile on her face.

"Really… Frankly, I have no idea how she knows about you" Remus said his incredulity audible in his voice.

And Hermione had no idea either. But she longed to get out of here. And from what Siriu - ehm – from what _he_ told her Andromeda was his favourite cousin and vice versa.

"Would it be – eh – would it be possible to talk to her?" Hermione wanted to know.

"Sure, but probably not today…" Remus remarked, happy that he managed to chase out the gloom out of her eyes.

Hermione laughed at that. Well, of course she wouldn't barge into someone's home at eight in the evening. But then she remember the other reason Remus had come here tonight and quickly sobered up.

"You should pick me up tomorrow" she said quietly and Remus immediately understood what she was talking about.

"That would probably be for the best" he answered sadly.

"What time?" she asked him, looking down at her hands in her lap.

"Nine in the morning…"

'Is it possible for wolfs to cry?' Hermione asked herself that night as she was snuggled under her covers, not being able to fall asleep. Clutching her four legs closer to her body, Shadow couldn't help but whine softly at the missing piece of her heart.

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><p><strong>AN: I know, a desperate ending but you need to see that even though Hermione tries to deny it, a bond like the one she had is eternal and you can't just get rid of it. Can I be angry at my 'own' character? (Don't sue me :D, JKR still wrote it) Well, it is possible... **

**Thank you for reading and please REVIEW :)**


	11. Pale Blue Eyes

_Sometimes I feel so happy,_  
><em>Sometimes I feel so sad.<em>  
><em>Sometimes I feel so happy,<em>  
><em>But mostly you just make me mad.<em>  
><em>Baby, you just make me mad.<em>

_- The Velvet Underground_

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><p><em>It was a crisp and raw dawn, the sun had yet to appear from behind the horizon. The air was frozen in the air and burned her lungs as she breathed in and out, and yet she didn't feel cold. The hills were covered in mist. A shudder went down her spine as the drops of morning dew upon the friable grass touched the soles of her bare feet. Her silk and feather-light skirt of an almost unearthly dress flied in the gentle morning breeze and chilled her naked legs. <em>

_She was walking across infinite meadow, nobody in sight. And yet, she felt another presence near her, trailing her across the fields. She heard their feet swishing in the frosty grass. Halting her movements, she waited with baited breath. _

"_Wandering around the country-side, that is new…" a deep voice said from behind her and she screwed her eyes shut, wanting him to stop there, already knowing who was standing right behind her. With all her might she willed him to turn around and leave her alone. _

"_If you really wish me to leave you alone, all you had to do was ask…"_

"_Please go away" Hermione whispered, eyes still shut, her fingers clutching the delicate fabric of her skirt in her hands. _

"_Do you really wish that?" He asked her, his arms encircling her body from behind like a snake until she was firmly pressed against his chest. Her trembling form was so small compared to his large and muscly body. Leaning her head back against his shoulder, she shook it telling him no. She didn't wish him to go. _

_Relaxing her fingers she let her dress fly around her in the wind. Getting hold of his hands she intertwined their fingers yearningly. _

_She didn't know how long they stood like that, it could have been minutes, hours – years. She didn't care. She wished she could stay like that forever. The chirping of birds, the sound of a nearby stream was the only thing that could be heard in that serene place, the rising sun right in front of her... His woodsy and leathery smell overwhelmed her senses and for a moment she was lost in place where there was no time that would tear the two of them apart. _

"_This is nice but do we know each other?" the person behind her asked and in a flash she turned around. She was astonished, no, she was bewildered by whom she saw standing in front of her. She would recognise those black locks and stormy grey eyes anywhere. But that wasn't what startled her so. He looked so young, he couldn't have been more than seventeen. _

"_Oh dear Merlin" Hermione breathed, her hands involuntarily flying to her mouth in shock. _

"_You know me! Brilliant, but I don't know YOU!" he said obviously seeing the recognition in her eyes. But all Hermione could do was stare at him in shock. She had to fight the haze in front of her eyes with all her might so she wouldn't faint. _

"_You don't look so good" he remarked getting hold of her arm at her elbow practically dragging her towards a bench that sure as hell wasn't there before. She let herself be pulled to his side still staring at his face, not realising the tears that were gently rolling down the sides of her cheeks. _

"_Why are you crying?" he asked her worriedly and she choked back a whimper, trying not to keep herself from sobbing in earnest. _

"_Did I offend you?" he really didn't know why she was looking at him so much sorrow in her eyes. At that she started to cry even more and he was at a loss to know what to do. He was used to birds throwing themselves at him and he wasn't one to brag (of course he was) but there wasn't many like him. He knew how to make them fall at his feet, knew how to make them scream in throes of passion. There wasn't one like him they always said. _

_One arm already around her shoulders he sneaked the other one under her knees, and pulled her on his lap. The girl who looked like an angel to him clutched herself to him like there was no tomorrow. Rubbing gentle circles on her back, he just let her cry. _

_After what seemed like hours to him she finally stopped and looked up at him with her puffy red eyes. "Are you all right?" he asked her softly, not wanting to upset lest she started to cry again. _

_Not being able to form a coherent answer she just shook her head no and snuggled closer to him, intending to never let go. The gentle rise and fall of his chest had finally managed to calm her down and after a long while she shifted to sit on farther on his lap. _

_Looking up at him, she observed him from her newfound nearness. _

_His face was free of the many scars caused by the war. His eyes weren't haunted like she was used to seeing them, nor were the sides of his neck adorned by the many tattoos he gained during his stay in Azkaban. _

_Her hair which was as dark as his Blackthorn wood wand felt as silk against his hand. Her eyes which were hidden by her long lashes were of the bluest colour. Her skin as soft as a butterfly's wing, as pale as shining moon in the dead of a night. Reaching his hand towards her, he cupped her cheek with his palm._

"_Who are you?" his whispered question carried by the wind._

_The touch of his hand on her cheek was the last thing she remembered before she woke up. _

It was Monday, the eight of July 1996 and Hermione didn't want to get up. She was surprised that she looked at the ceiling above her bed with her human eyes rather than her wolfish ones. Raising her hand she touched her cheek where the Sirius from her dream touched her right before she had woken up.

It was just a dream, she told herself. Yet it felt so real! And he didn't know her! How was it possible he didn't know her when it ought to be a fantasy of her brain? Even her cheeks were damp from crying and when she finally dragged herself out of her bed, she was met by an ugly site of puffy and red eyes, and blotchy cheeks. 'It had to be real!' she told herself.

It was exactly eight o'clock when she stepped out of the shower. Looking at the clock she found out she still had one hour till Remus came. Back in the shower she had realised just why did she change back to her human form.

The constant change back and forth between her human and Animagus part managed push forward those emotions she tucked away and strained the fragile memories. It was all back and Hermione knew she would never be able to do something like that again. It was just another form of denial. Denial, denial, denial.

Smiling was as forced an action as paying attention to Umbridge's blubbering. Her heart was being pierced by shards of ice and she became to regret her previous actions. She should have dealt with what happened earlier and not pushed it away.

She was being consumed by guilt, shame and eternal sadness. She was sure that if she were to face a Dementor in that exact moment, her soul would slip from her without any prompt. Rubbing her face with her prune hands she pulled the free strands of her hair behind her ear.

Drops of ice-cold flowed down her back, her sopping hair tightly wrapped in a towel upon her head. Shuddering in the fresh air in her room she hastily closed the window to her room.

Standing in front of a mirror she loosened up the towel around her head and watched her hair fall freely around her face. Grabbing her wand off the bedside table, she strode back towards the full-length mirror and waving her wand around her hair she made it go dry into gentle curls. Not wanting to deal with it falling into her face all the time she braided it into a peasant braid around her head.

Putting on her usual black jeans and a plain white t-shirt, she looked in her trunk for her favourite oversized dark burgundy sweater. Snuggling into her cloak, she grabbed her leather satchel, put in some of her money and her wand, making a mental note to buy herself a wand holster later and went to the empty kitchen.

The twins were still asleep and she had the whole kitchen to herself. Making herself a cup of tea – they didn't have coffee in here, she spotted yesterday's edition of the Daily Prophet lying on the table.

Her subscription had been only ten months long. Strange, one would think that they would make it for a year but no, that wasn't the case. So she hadn't read any news for a very long time. Reading the first page she realised things were getting too bad too fast.

Chucking down the strong black tea, she made herself another one and started to read the many articles and headlines. The news weren't good, far from it. Madam Amelia Bones from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement had been murder, as were many others having anything to do with the first resistance ages ago.

It seemed that Voldemort's tactic was to get rid of those with experience and influence so the younger ones would be left to flail around not knowing what to do. The dark mark was seen at least twice since the beginning of summer holidays and people were getting scared. Also, the news from the north weren't all that pleasant. Those Dementors who were supposed to guard the Azkaban were over breeding and as a consequence the weather was starting to get gloomy and misty all over Britain.

Sighing, she put down the newspaper and rubbed her face yet again. There wasn't much time left till it became an all-out war. Checking the time she found out she still had half an hour till Remus came to pick her up. Anxiety began to grip her like a vine and she felt like she would be sick right in that instant. Her stomach felt like tied up in knots and her hands were shaking.

Knowing that a fit of terror will help precisely no-one, she stood up and began to walk around the living room, trying to release the tension from her body.

She didn't want to go to Gringotts and she certainly didn't want to hear Sirius's will. She didn't need another reminder that he was dead. Last time she was in that blasted bank she swore she would never return there again. Nevertheless she had to admit that her conclusions might have been a tad hasty.

It was true that at that time she was ghastly poor and all her money consisted of what the Weasley twins gave her for her help with their inventions. But then she managed to kill those two Deatheaters and the Auror department gave her two thousand Galleons which was an enormous sum for her. She still didn't know how she managed to get over killing those two good-for-nothing wizards.

Her soul was split two times for all she knew and yet she didn't break down as she was supposed to. Her emotions weren't exactly all right right now, nevertheless she was certain that killing someone wasn't such an issue for her, however bad that might sound.

Hearing the distinct knock on the door, she realised she had spent far too much time thinking and overthinking. Taking a deep breath she reassured herself she had everything she needed and went to the door.

"Good morning Remus" she said grimly as she locked the door behind her.

"Morning Hermione, shall we?" he responded, offering her his arm which she gladly took. She needed some kind of anchor that would keep her from falling apart. And so they went, arm in arm towards the Gringotts bank.

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><p>When he woke up from his strange dream, he saw it wasn't even dawn yet. The room was shrouded in a strange violet and grey light coming from the window. He couldn't get rid of the image of the girl from his dream – her hair, her soft skin…<p>

Rubbing his face, he knew there was no chance of going back to sleep. So putting on some tattered jeans and that school cloak of his, he grabbed his broom and carefully, as not to wake his room-mates, he sneaked out of their dorm.

'Who are you?' he couldn't help but ask himself as he was cruising in the air at the speed of light.

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><p><strong>AN: So sorry it took me so long but I had - well - a phase... And I couldn't make my brain think about my story. But here's another chapter, a mysterious one. What do you think happened? What do you think will happen? **

**As always, thank you so much for reading and please REVIEW! **


	12. Made Aware

Andromeda Tonks was having her morning cup of tea when her morning drowsiness was interrupted by two distinguished looking black birds flying through her window. The pair of them sat down right in front of her, miraculously avoiding the steaming cup of black tea in front of them.

There were two missives attached to their feet, one with the majestic black and grey feathered owl and one with the black silky plumaged raven. With deft fingers used to disentangling the strings with which most of the letters were attached to the owls' legs, she undid the tiny knots and got hold of the letters.

Once the birds felt like they accomplished the task of stealing some of Mrs Tonks' breakfast, both of them flew out the window again and disappeared in the clouds. She was left with two heave envelopes sitting on her dining table and chewed on her bottom lip, wondering with which one she should begin.

Turning them over, she observed the different seals that adorned the expensive parchment. One the one brought to her by the owl, there was the distinct seal on dark blue wax- the seal belonging to the Gringotts bank and her eyebrows rose in surprise. It had been a long time since she had any dealings with the goblins that would require any correspondence. Deciding to leave the other letter be for now, she cracked the seal and pulled out an official looking scroll.

Furrowing her brow, she started to read.

_To Mrs Andromeda Druella Tonks née Black_

_Please take notice that you are hereby summoned to appear in the action of Reading the Last Will and Testament of Sirius Orion Black, deceased 18__th__ June of this year. This action will take place in a week's time, on the eight of July at precisely 9:15 a. m. in the Gringotts Wizarding Bank in Diagon Alley. _

_You are hereby notified that should you fail to appear, you will not be informed of any decisions made based on Mr Black's last words nor will you have any further option to preview our client's Last Will and Testament shouldn't it be stated in the aforementioned Will otherwise. The Gringotts bank has been alerted that you have received and read this notice and will therefore file away that you have been made aware of said action of reading Mr Black's Last Will and Testament._

_Budoc,  
>The executor of Sirius Orion Black's Last Will and Testament<br>Gringotts Wizarding Bank_

Andromeda's eyes got huge with surprise and disbelief the further she got with this official summon. Unwanted moisture managed to gather itself in the corners of her eyes and she hastily swept away whatever didn't manage to fall down her cheeks.

She had been very distraught when she got the news of her cousin's death from her daughter. She refused to hear any details, knowing full well that her favourite family member didn't go down without a fight. She was afraid to hear who or what was responsible for his death since she knew that there were only so many people able to best him, her sister Bellatrix being one of them.

Whenever those two met it always ended with a duel and Sirius had never come out the winner. Rubbing her face with her tender palms, she put the letter down, already knowing she would go to the Reading. She was too much interested in hearing why she had to be present, not for personal gain, it was more to hear the too obvious foolhardy Will of her beloved cousin and his marauder ideas.

Also, she needed to see the proof that Sirius did something responsible for once in his life. From what she gathered through her daughter, he was obsessed with the notion of protecting his godson Harry Potter and was confined to the terrible place the Black's used to call home. Firstly, she didn't know how he managed to escape the clutches of one Albus Dumbledore to even create a Will and secondly, why did he need to create such a document seeing he had no children himself and everything would go to his godson by default?

With such questions cruising through her mind she grabbed the second letter lying on the table. This one was sealed with a seal she hadn't seen in years, in more than sixteen years to be precise. Her fingers began to shake but she pushed through her sudden nervousness and anxiety. Pulling out the long piece of parchment out of the envelope, she began to read.

_Dear Andy,_

_You pranked me and I never, ever let anyone prank _me_ without getting back at them for it. I still remember how you made my hair go sleazy for a week! A week! It was my hair! You should never touch my hair, you know that! _

_Unfortunately, if you're reading this letter, it is neither a prank nor a joke or payback and I am dead. Truly dead, as in ten feet under dead. I sure hope I went down kicking like the petulant child I always tried to be. Don't be sad, Andy. That is the nature of war and I know I could always be immature with you. So don't ponder and yonder Andy, and celebrate that you managed to outlive me. _

_It may seem to you as if I didn't take my life seriously, that I joke about my death but believe me, I feel anything but. I think I may presume you know all about my confinement to Grimmauld place and knowing my utter hate towards that place, you can surely understand that it is only a question of time till I do something incredible stupid. _

_The thing is, I can't allow myself to do anything stupid. _

_You know about my godson Harry. He needs me though I'm not sure I'm much of a godfather to him. But you see, I'm not able to. Looking at him, all I see is James and it will be that way forever and ever. The guilt Andy, the guilt is eating me up alive and there are days I spent in a constant state of oblivion. _

_Nevertheless I know that Harry will be able to pull through without me. He has Moony, he has practically everyone and there isn't anyone who would deny him a thing. He had suffered so much though and I worry that there will come a time when he won't be able to just move on. Though I have to believe that he will be able to pull through. _

_I have conscience. Incredible. You know beating around the bush really isn't my thing so I should go straight to the point. I'm sure you have better things to do than reading letters from your dead cousin so I will bother you only for a moment longer._

_There's a girl. A woman. Her name is Hermione though I cannot tell you her surname since even she doesn't know it. Yet. She's the most important person in my life and nobody, not even Harry can replace her place in my heart. You may wonder what happened to me… falling in love with somebody who's at least ten years younger than me… But there's no way I can explain how or why or what exactly happened. _

_It did and my biggest fear is leaving her behind knowing that she won't be able to go on living. Do I sound selfish? Presumptuous? I trust you that you will not spread this knowledge and keep yet another one of my secrets. I don't know if she knows, but knowing her brilliant mind she already does. We, Hermione and I, share a natural bond. You may have thought me oblivious to the knowledge of magic but with nothing to do I was eventually able to read my way through most of the Black library. And I discovered what I discovered. I'm not sure how it happened but we have a bond. You and I, we both know what happens when one of the bonded dies. _

_If I know her, and I do, I am certain that she will try to hide it, she will try to stuff it all in the back of her mind but we both know that is impossible. She will be concentrating on defeating the monster Voldemort and being there for Harry be it a shoulder to cry on or a person to shout at. _

_She is a peculiar witch, I have never met anyone like her and never will. Magic is a part of her and she'll always be loyal to what it tells her. She doesn't trust easily, I should say she doesn't trust anyone at all. But once you gain her respect and trust, you will not find a more loyal friend. _

_Please take care of her for me. She's the One Andy and I'm leaving her here alone forever. There's no way back from death. There never will be. But I pray, I pray like I have never before that I don't die. That I keep my promise to her. That I will never leave her here alone. _

_But seeing you're reading this letter, I already did. Please take care of Hermione, please take care of my Shadow. _

_Sirius_

_P.S.: Payback is a bitch_

Rushing to a mirror she saw her hair change from its rich black to fluorescent pink. Laughing a watery laugh, she slumped down on a chair by the table. Taking a deep breath, she read the letter again but still came up with nothing.

Her cousin had changed, there was no question about that. She completely understood his worries about Harry, she felt the same about her daughter and realised that Sirius had to feel like a surrogate father to his godson. But who was this mysterious Hermione that managed to capture the unreachable ice-cold heart of her favourite cousin.

Knowing there was basically only one person in the whole world that would know what had been going on between those two she penned down a short message to Remus Lupin and sent it with her faithful owl Onyx.

It was evening already and Andromeda's mind was whirling with questions but outwardly, she appeared calm and collected. She was still a Slytherin and even though she wasn't fond of her family, some things were still ingrained in her bones. A tentative knock on the door interrupted her musings and she went to the only window that oversaw their entrance door.

Her husband Ted Tonks wouldn't be home for another two weeks so she was all alone with their daughter who still lived with them. And seeing that Nymphadora was still at work and usually used the floo to get home, the only person who could be knocking on the door was Remus. Pulling the curtains aside for a bit, she saw that indeed, Remus was waiting at her door.

"Good evening" Remus greeted her politely as he stepped inside. They went to the kitchen and Andromeda offered him some refreshments though Remus refused the offered and settled only on a cup of tea.

"I came as soon as I could. What is it that you needed my help with?" Remus asked her after he took a careful sip from his cup of steaming hot tea.

"You and my cousin, you were rather close to each other, weren't you?" Andromeda asked him minding to omit saying Sirius's name. She was aware of just how close the Marauders were and didn't want to cause the last one of them any more pain. And even though this conversation felt more than necessary to her, she resolved to make it the least nerve-wracking and painful for the poor man.

"Yes, though I fail to see where you're going with this..." Remus said quietly, averting his eyes and concentrating his gaze on the curtains drawn over the window.

"Who is this Hermione?" Mrs Tonks asked the werewolf, waving her hand around noncommittally.

Remus, confused at why she was asking questions about Hermione answered curtly "She's a schoolmate of Harry's." He didn't elaborate his statement furthered though he could clearly see that Andromeda wasn't very much content with his answer.

"And you know her how?" she questioned him further. Her features were hard as always and Remus could clearly see that the Black family had left her mark upon her as well.

Seeing that he wasn't one to talk, she decided to try a different tactics and be completely straightforward with him.

"Remus, I was asked to take care of the girl and I need to know who she is, do I not?" she vaguely referred to the letter that was etched to her mind.

"Asked?" now he had absolutely no idea what she was talking about.

"Yes asked, now is she a sensible one? I do hope she isn't one to mindlessly rush into things…" Andromeda said talking about her taking care Hermione as a fait accompli.

Remus's incredulity must have shown on his face "Don't look at me like that Remus. Of course I've already decided that I will take care of her. The only thing I need is to gather some information about her and of course for you to arrange a meeting but that should be all…" she said, her eyes shining with an unknown emotion.

He just sat there, pondering what to tell her when he finally understood what was going on. There was only one way for her to find out about Hermione and suddenly decide she would come live with them.

"What did he write to you?" He asked her straight on.

"Enough for me to decide that she must be very special. Now, will you tell me who she is? Really…?"

Sighing, Remus stirred his tea with a small spoon and observed as it the liquid flowed round and round. Not looking up, he started to tell her what she wanted to hear.

"Hermione, she's a peculiar witch. Powerful, frighteningly clever – not that she flaunts her knowledge, fiery but cold… Usually, she keeps you at an arm's length but Si- " he swallowed down the bile at the back of his throat and went silent for a while.

"Sirius, he managed to get close to her. Though after what the two went through together I don't wonder…" Remus got a distant look in his eyes and Andromeda couldn't help but ask "What the two of them went through?"

"It isn't my story to tell… They were both very cautious with what side of them they showed the world but never to one another and they very much together. She is older than your usual sixth year though I don't know by how much. I better not say more. You should get to know her yourself rather than through me…."

The both of them were quiet for a while, the only sound audible was Remus's occasional sipping on his tea.

"Will you be at the Reading next week?" she asked him.

"Y – yes…" Remus answered if a little bit surprised that she would bring it up.

Sensing the state of his mind, she added "I know how you feel Remus, believe me when I say that it hasn't left me unfazed that he fell. But I can't let it consume me and neither can you."

Her solemn words accompanied him throughout the week and on his visit to see Hermione. He was glad that she seemed as eager to meet Andy as Andy was to meet her and hoped with all his heart that Hermione hadn't succumbed to some kind of hidden state of permanent depression.

And so, with Hermione clutching his arm, he went towards the Gringotts bank, the both of them feeling like prisoners to be hanged. Anxiety hung around them like curtains of the thickest and heaviest fog and he was sure you could cut the dread around the woman standing next to him with a knife.

"We're here at the invitation of Master Budoc" Remus said to the goblin teller. Werewolves were one of the only creatures not afraid of goblins. Something that got to the with the natural circle of things or some other balderdash.

"Follow me" said the goblin and they did, though Hermione who had by now let go of his arm, stayed behind for a bit. She didn't feel very comfortable being led by some goblin through the maze that was the Gringotts bank. Nevertheless she trusted Remus and was more than certain that she would be able to take care of herself if push came to shove.

"Wait here" the old, sturdy looking goblin announced and pushed them into some room or other. They were still looking at the door they just came through both of them upset by the rude behaviour of the goblin, not that Remus expected anything other from the threateningly looking creature. Because of their momentarily state of incredulity, they didn't notice that there were other three people in the room with them.

That is until a familiar grand-fatherly tone reached their ears.

"And what are you doing here Miss Granger, if I may ask?"

Hermione slowly turned around at hearing the voice, her eyes full of pent up contempt she felt towards the old man.

Tilting her head airily in an aristocratic fashion, she said haughtily "Wouldn't you like to know… Headmaster"

* * *

><p><strong>AN: I know, you want to kill me :D another chapter and I still don't want to show you the juicy stuff. But hang on, next chapter will be the reading of the Will, Dumbledore's reaction and of course, who are the other two people? Take a guess and write me a review! **

**Thanks for reading and please REVIEW! **


	13. I, Sirius Orion Black III

_Previously:_

"_And what are you doing here Miss Granger, if I may ask?"_

_Hermione slowly turned around at hearing the voice, her eyes full of pent up contempt she felt towards the old man._

_Tilting her head airily in an aristocratic fashion, she said haughtily "Wouldn't you like to know… Headmaster"_

* * *

><p>She measured him with her cold stare that sent shivers down his spine. 'What had happened to the girl that skipped down the Hogwarts' corridors like an innocent child?' he asked himself as he stared into her icy, almost grey eyes which looked at him like the stormiest clouds on earth. They told him to tread carefully... Not that he paid any attention to what his gut pushed him towards.<p>

No, he was much more of a supercilious and contemptuous kind of man and didn't trust his instincts. He did trust them once – with Grindelwald and look how that had turned out. So why should he pay attention to such a superfluous thing as his inner instinct? He always minded what his manipulative mind told him, and it wouldn't fail him now.

So in the same manner in which he had just greeted her, he responded to her unworthy retort thinking that he would slowly stir her to his way of seeing things. It was just as if he had forgotten all that he had ever known about the witch called Hermione Granger. Forgetting he had ever admitted his failings to her, conveniently suppressing the memory of every time he had spoken to her, he said: "Miss Granger, I demand that you not use such a tone with me. I am you Headmaster and as such I demand natural authority"

If he had awaited a heated response stemming from what he supposed was her ingrained Gryffindor impulsiveness and pride, he was very much mistaken. Her face retained its cold and almost sneering expression and didn't change one bit. She acted as if he weren't there and though she was looking straight into his eyes, it seemed to him that all she saw was a light barrier of dust.

His whole body felt as if it was slowly being drowned in a chokingly cold melted steel, both burning hot and freezingly icy. And yet, all there was to the scene were the two of staring into each other's eyes for a mere second.

Her persona looked very distinguished, not minding the common clothes that peeked through the opening of her beloved cloak. Her aura emitted such power and sense of awe that it made even the almighty Dumbledore cover in fear. The Headmaster wasn't able to guess how it was possible that such a chit that was always following Harry Potter like a stray dog was able to command the room the way she just did.

Remus, who was observing the encounter with a wary eye, realised that even though they all thought the Headmaster of Hogwarts to be an omniscient wizard, he knew absolutely nothing about Hermione – which was clear from the small confrontation that just played out in front of his very eyes.

What none of them knew was that Dumbledore was here to acquire a substantial fortune that he would simply love to use for the so-called funding of the Order. But what seemed like an honourable cause was really just a smokescreen for his many trifling projects he oversaw.

Their staring contest was interrupted by the grumbling of yet another goblin.

"Master Budoc will receive you now" the goblin announced crossly from behind an enormous scroll, his eyes darting across the parchment as if he was checking something. Perusing the small group of five with his threating and ever-measuring eyes, he realised that there were one too many.

"Only Mr Remus John Lupin and Harry James Potter, scion of House Potter, Mrs Narcissa Verina Malfoy and Andromeda Aludra Tonks and Miss Hermione are allowed to be present at the Reading of the Last Will and Testament of one Sirius Black" he said looking accusingly at Dumbledore who was already prepared to clarify that he should be present when the door opened again and an angry looking goblin with an entourage of another three heavily armed creatures entered the room.

It was getting crowded in there. Hermione, who had been concentrating solely on the Headmaster that was standing in front of her realised only now that she should have noticed the other two women in the room.

They looked remarkably similar and yet different. They both seemed of some age already though they had managed to retain their natural beauty. She, who seemed to be the older one of the pair, had dark curly hair arranged in a very loose bun on one side of her head. Her robes looked like they haven't been worn for a long time - what once could have been a rich dark green was now only a rehash of its former shine.

The other woman, though, looked much more distinguished than the former. Her hair had the most peculiar colouring, somewhat similar to her own. Half of her head was the darkest shade of black while the other glistened with platinum blonde. If she hadn't seen her already with her husband and son, Hermione would have had trouble with guessing in whose presence she currently was. This had to be Mrs Malfoy. Which automatically led to her realisation that the other woman was Mrs Tonks. Mrs Andromeda Tonks. The Black sisters, her mind added almost instantly.

All of this assessment took her only a couple of seconds and even though she was more than looking forward to officially meeting the woman that offered to take her in, she had to first know what would happen to their obnoxious Headmaster.

He looked mildly terrified by the sight of the armed goblins though he wouldn't let himself be deterred. "I assure you, Master goblin" he said with as much respect as he could muster "That I am here in the place of Mister Harry Potter who as you already mentioned is to be let in to the Reading"

He already fancied himself to having outwitted the goblin. However he didn't count with the fact that those goblins responsible for guarding the treasures of their most distinguished and loyal customers followed their orders to the dot.

"And I assure you that were your name mentioned in any part of the will or your presence specifically requested by Mister Black, you would have been let in. Alas, it is not" the goblin said with glee literally shining through his eyes.

"I'm Mister Potter's magical guardian!" Albus Dumbledore said much louder than was needed which earned him a nasty scowl from the goblin who was still bitterly denying him entry into the 'Reading room' as the Gringotts decided on calling the room where the Wills were read.

A mad smile formed on the small man's face, showing his gleaming, almost golden teeth. "As you very well know the laws of your Ministry do not apply on goblin territory and Gringotts Wizarding Bank _is_ goblin ground." And with that he waved his hand towards the armed entourage and turned his attention towards the other occupants of the room.

They all ignored Dumbledore's seething as he was led out being prodded by the sharp spears of the three goblins. And thus yet another one of Dumbledore's schemes crumbled down like a house of cards.

As soon as the door closed behind one Albus Dumbledore, the whole demeanour of the goblin standing in front of them changed. He straightened up to his full height of four feet. His chest puffing up he announced in his deep scratchy voice: "If you would all go through this door, Master Budoc will be with you shortly."

With that a door to his right opened with a loud thud. Nobody from the small group of four seemed hell bent on making small talk so they quietly went through the door, each of them taking a seat on one of the chairs in front of a huge table.

From what Hermione observed in the short time she spent in the company of the Black women, there seemed to be quite the hostility between them and it didn't take her long to guess why. If Narcissa Malfoy was like the rest of her crazy family, she would have never forgotten Andy for marrying a muggleborn wizard. And Andy, being the proud Black she surely was, would never consider begging her sister or family to take her back. Oh how she adored family matters, Hermione thought sarcastically and turned her attention towards the room she was sitting in.

It was a rather large chamber inlaid with dark stone, with a huge sturdy wooden table as a centrepiece. There weren't any scrolls or leftover parchment laying around. Instead, the table was completely empty, only a high leather chair was visible from behind it. A grand crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling and illuminated the room with dark yellow light. And even though the room was very bare and scarcely decorated, it was strangely comfortable.

There seemed to be a sense of anticipation in the air and Hermione realised that she had managed to get caught up in the moment enough to forget what had happened in the last few weeks. Not completely, that would never be possible, but enough for her to think with a much needed calm.

She got this feeling she couldn't really describe. As if a blank page was offered to her and it was only her and a pen that would need to come to an agreement. It didn't matter what she wrote, there was just this creamy white blank page staring at her invitingly, terrifyingly.

Hermione knew, felt it in her bones that whatever would be said in the next few hours would be detrimental to her future. How she knew she didn't know.

There was a part of her that hated herself for anticipating anything. She should be detesting the very place and yet, she wanted to hear what the goblins had to say. Was it bad, was it immoral, selfish to want to hear why she was called to be at the Reading?

The four of them didn't have to wait long for another goblin to appear. They all were hoping that this was the last one, that this was Master Budoc they all have been awaiting. And from his clothes, you could clearly see that he was the one in question.

His traditional goblin clothing was made of the richest of burgundy fabric with a heavy black robe over it. His crooked fingers were adorned with many golden rings set with the most precious stones Hermione had ever seen. His robe bore the usual Gringotts crest and around his belly, there was a sturdy looking belt with a dangerous looking sword hanging from it.

Not looking for any sign of welcome coming from their side, he sat down on the large chair with gruff and put a strangely looking object on the wooden table. No introduction, no nothing. The goblin didn't even acknowledge the presence of those three witches and a wizard. Instead, he put a thick leather folder on the desk in front of him and turned his attention towards the strange device in the middle of the table.

The table, seemingly made solely for this purpose, anchored the object to its wooden desk and the occupants of the room got their chance to study what it really was. It looked like two six inch sticks of iron bound together by silver thread, pulsating with some strange plasmatic energy. The already dark room suddenly lit up with silver-green light and an eerily familiar voice reached their ears.

"I, Sirius Orion Black III, head of the House Black, hereby declare that this is my Last Will and Testament and I hereby revoke, cancel and annul all wills and codicils previously made by me or for me. I declare that I am of sound mind and that this Last Will and Testament expresses my wishes without undue influence or duress."

Hermione couldn't breathe and if Remus didn't catch her hand she would have surely run out of the room by now. She wasn't ready for this. She wasn't ready to hear his scruffy deep voice nor was she ready to hear his will. Moments ago, she might have thought this was the right thing to do and though she still did, it didn't mean that it wasn't tearing her heart out of her chest. For once in her life she didn't want to know how it was possible for the goblins to have a sound record nor did she question Sirius formal tone. She just wanted to get it over and done with.

But the device wouldn't listen to her silent wishes and went on replaying what the goblins must have heard million times before.

"I hereby appoint Master Budoc, the account manager of the Black family vaults as the Executor of my Will and grant him all powers and authority as are required by the goblin inheritance law. Also, I grant my Executor full and absolute power in the dealings of my last will and testament.

"I give a total sum of 100.000 Galleons to Remus John Lupin."

Remus looked positively bewildered by what he had just heard. It was an enormous amount of money. His best friend must have been dropped on his head as a child – a feat that was very much possible considering the family he grew up in. What was he to do with it? His question was answered just a moment later.

"Remus, do buy yourself a nice pair of robes and a house, would you? Also, go and marry her or I will come haunt till the end of your days, which is a very, very long time."

A small, yet sad smile appeared on the werewolf's face and Hermione, forgetting for a moment what was going on, felt her eyes sparkle with mischievousness at the thought of her ex-professor and the Metamorphagus Auror together. It seemed that even Andromeda knew about what was going on between her daughter and Remus because when Hermione saw her glancing at the wizard she saw that particular fondness that only came from suspecting a possible relationship of your daughter.

"Upon reaching this point, Narcissa Verina Malfoy is to receive a letter adressed to her and is to be lead out of the Reading."

Hermione furrowed her brow as the goblin reached into the heavy looking leather folder and pulled out a thin envelope with the Black family crest on it. Narcissa, already knowing there was no arguing with the goblins stood up and took the letter from the much despised creature.

Her face didn't show any emotion, not anger, not vicious, nor coldness. It was just blank. But before she exited the room, she cast one glance at the girl that was sitting next to the werewolf. She recognised her from seeing her in Diagon Alley the other day.

There wasn't much Narcissa knew about the girl - only that her name was Hermione and that she carried a Black family heirloom. But who was she really? Never in her life had she seen something like the confrontation between this young lady and Albus Dumbledore. The whole thing was very much perplexing and she would need to talk to her son about it. But not now, now, Draco had enough to worry about. With that last anxious thought, she exited the Reading and never looked back.

"Andromeda Tonks is to be reinstated on the Black family and is to be given a total sum of 50,000 Galleons."

The older witch didn't look surprised at all, though her reaction was a mile away from what Hermione had expected. She looked amused, as if this whole thing was one grand entertainment. And unwttingly, Hermione's opinion of Andy went down like Titanic upon hitting the fateful iceberg.

"Now don't be angry with me - I figured there needed to be some compensation for all the pink hair I've caused you. I believe your daughter got an unhealthy obsession with it because of me. Oh, and beat some sense into the old mutt for me, would you?"

Desensitised by hearing his voice for the last half hour, she was able to withstand his Marauder-ness even from behind the grave. Her heart gave a slight, not slight, an almost overpowering pang. The ever present bile at the back of her neck became even more pronounced and she had to bite the insides of her cheeks to distract herself from her overwhelming emotions.

"My godson, Harry James Potter is to receive my entire interest in the real property which was the Black manor at an undisclosed address he is aware of and the Black Island in the Caribbean. Furthermore, he will receive the entire content of my personal vault at Gringotts which at the formation of this Will contained 1.050.000 Galleons. I also give him my entire interest in personal items to be found at Black manor."

That… wasn't expected. Andromeda asked herself what would happen to the rest of his property – that is to the entire Black fortune. There was this slight nagging at the back of her head that told her what would happen to it all, that tiny voice that whispered into her ear that there had to be a reason for Hermione being there. And her supposition was confirmed with her cousin's next words.

"The rest of my entire property I was in possession as the head of House Black will fall to Hermione, reachable through Remus John Lupin. Not depending on her presence at the Reading of this Will, she will receive a letter left with Master Budoc. Also, an inheritance test is to be paid for her from the Black account and carried out the day of this Reading. All Black accounts, shares and stakes in any and all business and the title as the Head of House Black will from now one belong to Hermione"

Two heads turned to look at her, nothing but surprise evident in their eyes. Hermione was still trying to wrap her head around what had just happened and didn't pay it any attention. Right now, she was probably one of the richest people in their world. She didn't understand - didn't understand why he gave it all to her when it should have been Harry who received all of his property. She didn't feel worthy of such a bequest.

One minute she was poor, with only a two thousand Galleons altogether to get by and now she was in the possession of millions?

Shaking her head in disbelief, she almost didn't notice the letter that was being handed to her. Remus nudged her from her side with a kind smile on his face and finally snapping out of her confusion she grabbed the envelope from the goblin's hands.

The envelope felt like it weighed a ton in her shaking palms. Putting her head in her hands, she sighed deeply.

"On this day, the 17th of June, 1996 I declare my Last Will and Testament valid and required to execute within thirty days after my death"

Death. That was the last word they heard from their Sirius. No joke, no lightening of situation. The fateful word hung in the air around them like an echo in an endless cave. To Hermione, it felt like the Grim Reaper was mocking her, whispering in her ear, luring her into her real of the Dead.

She noticed a slight pat upon her shoulder but she still didn't raise her head. Her body was being cocooned by her magic as a child by its mother's womb.

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><p><strong>AN: A mysterious ending. I don't want to comment it anymore because I see myself spoiling it to you. So write me your opinion. Make your own conclusions... In the next chapter, there will be some great revelations so stay tuned.**

**Please REVIEW! :)**


	14. Hermionë

**A/N: I'm terribly sorry it took me so long to post this chapter but I was stuck with it for a bit... Nevertheless here it si don't let me keep you from reading!**

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><p>There were only two of them left in the Reading chamber – Hermione and Master Goblin. Strangely enough, he didn't press her to speak. She wasn't panicking nor was she hyperventilating or showing any signs of anxiety. However on the inside, her mind was in the biggest turmoil.<p>

She didn't question her new status as the Head of House Black. That was about the only thing she had accepted without a question – mainly because the Goblins had accepted it and it was written in a valid legal document. What she couldn't understand was why Sirius had decided to make _her_ the Head of House.

'It isn't such an important position' she told herself but immediately took it back. To be a Head of House was always an important position even though her 'new family' had only about five members expect her and none of them carried the Black surname. There was Narcissa Malfoy and her son Draco, then there was Andromeda with Nymphadora and lastly there was the insane Bellatrix and that was about it.

There was a slight possibility, scratch that, a huge possibility that all answers to her questions would be revealed in the letter she still held in her hands. But then again, she had absolutely no desire to read the dead man's words.

'Yes, I'm a coward' she scoffed at herself and put the letter into her satchel. Her lips formed in a thin line, she turned to look at the goblin who was observing her like a hawk.

"Is there any business I need to attend to?" she asked him in a flat voice.

In the beginning, Hermione was surprised by the calmness of the goblin but soon found a reason for his composure. As the account manager for the Black family Master Budoc had surely seen a lot of strange happenings and unusual machinations and a meek girl (there was no other way to describe her current behaviour) wouldn't be able to astonish the ancient accountant.

"Yes" he answered shortly and paused for a second. "There's the matter of the inheritance test as per request of Mr Black. As your family's account manager, I would strongly suggest you accede to his wishes." Master Budoc said as he stroked his pronounced beard.

There was something shrewd and calculating in his gaze and Hermione suddenly understood why Goblins were so gifted in the gathering of any acquirable wealth. They saw the innumerable variables as clear as one sees black on white.

They always acted in a way that would bring them most profit and being a bloodthirsty nation of Goblins, they didn't care about being inhumane or inconsiderate of their customers. Wizards and Witches from all over the world came to them to guard and proliferate their gold. And that was what they were exceptionally good at.

Even Hermione saw the possibility of a hypothetical safety from the crazed maniac named Lord Voldemort through her newly acquired position. A promise of possible allies that would listen only to the Black family name. She could be free from the clutches of the more or less useless Order of the Phoenix.

She knew she was being cynical – she always was. But she had lived down the fact that people saw her only as the supposed brightest witch of her age that spent all of her free time in the library, disapproving of anyone who even thought of breaking the rules. It was about time for her to take the matters into her own hands and with that decision made she curtly nodded her head in consent.

The goblin's eyes sparkled at her and unwittingly, her own eyes showed a little bit of that astute she hid behind her books.

"How long will it take?" she asked him still sitting on the rather comfortable chair. Her back straight, head slightly tilted to the side and her hands rolling around her wand – not as a weapon, but rather as a reassurance. She looked the epitome of the most powerful witch.

"There is no given time, Miss. It all depends on the willingness of your… blood" he said not at all perturbed by the medievalness of his statement.

"I see" was her only answer. There was precisely nothing you could learn about the Gringotts Inheritance test in books so she would need to trust the small creatures, not that she was any happy about it.

"Please follow me" the goblin told her as he stood up from his chair. With a wave of his hand he opened the door he came through earlier and Hermione followed him through another set of doors. From the slight descent of the tiled floor she understood they were going deeper into the building. Many steps and turns further, they finally stopped at a lookalike of muggle vault door.

Budoc ran his hand in a circle upon the large spoked silver handwheel. She marvelled at its clicking and tinkling as it slowly, very slowly creaked open. The vault door was at least a foot thick with a number of retracted locking bolts and reinforced with some kind of copper-ish metal.

As the heave door turned on its hinges, the air began to shiver with heat. Even though Hermione didn't feel difference in temperature, she felt as the hot air slipped under her cloak and caressed her neck, the only piece of her skin that was left bare.

The room that was heavily guarded by the massive door was huge. It looked like a large dungeon hall. Small reddish bricks held the ceiling in place and created fake pillars and arches on each side of the chamber. There were torches illuminating the room and Hermione had to supress the shudder evoked by the eeriness of this place.

But the most intriguing thing was the large panel of sheer, light pink stone with a tinge of orange as it was being hit by the flickering light. It was hanging in the air without any support, so thin that Hermione feared it would shatter and break were she just to touch it with the tips of her fingers.

"Pure melted crystals of morganite, cleansed from all magic" Master Budoc enlightened Hermione pointing towards the panel in the middle of the room.

She watched with fascination as the precious stone bubbled from time to time. She could see the air trembling from the heat the panel of stone seemed to emit.

With a wave of his hand, the goblin froze the material and Hermione felt the chamber lose its original heat. In a matter of seconds it was in solid again, becoming even more lightly coloured then before.

"The first step is rather easy. Do you know the rune for blood?" Master Budoc asked her while he opened a small case holding an assortment of daggers.

"Yes" Hermione answered slightly unnerved by the sight of the sharp, menacingly looking knives.

"Draw it on your arm with your wand if you please" Budoc commanded her.

So Hermione rolled up her left sleeve and with her wand, she gently skimmed her flesh drawing the desired rune. She felt her blood rush under her skin, dark purple veins forming the desired symbol.

Seeing she was done, Master Budoc got hold of her left arm, gripping it tightly. As soon as his wrinkly old hand touched her skin, the rune she had just drawn began to glow with dark, almost black light.

"Forgive me, Miss" the goblin said but Hermione heard no real sincerity or sympathy in his voice. It all happened so fast that she didn't even manage to notice what the goblin was about to do. Gripping her arm in one hand, a dagger in another, he buried the tip of the sharp knife in her soft flesh.

Hermione let out a shriek, a mix of surprise and pain and tried to wriggle her arm out of the goblin's hand.

"What the bloody hell are you doing?" she shrieked at him but the creature standing in front of her was far stronger than she had anticipated. If anything, he clutched her hand even more, his long dirty nails digging into the sides of her arms.

She felt as the dagger sucked on her blood and magic, feasting on her very essence. Finally, after a couple of excruciating seconds, Budoc let go of her arm which she immediately cradled to her body. Glaring menacing at the goblin she ran her hand over the raw wound which didn't leak any blood even though it was still fresh. Healing it as she had done many times before, she was glad to see that there was no scar left.

There was no doubt as to why the wizarding race didn't hold the goblins in any kind of fondness. A lot of questions about the goblins had been answered today and Hermione couldn't find it in herself to be particularly lenient and kind towards the goblins. They were nasty creatures – that was for sure.

Master Budoc didn't seem the least fazed by her nasty glare and turned his back on her, facing the large morganite panel. He didn't seem to pay attention to her as he started to incise strange symbols into the precious stone. They were neither runes nor any old letters. As soon as they were written, the path created with her blood and magic got pulled into the panel rippling the solid stone as Hermione's magic spread all over the stone.

The stone glowed with different colours until it settled on a snowy white. Hermione would have reached out and caressed the surface of the morganite were it not for the goblin who stood in front of the panel as if protecting it from her.

Not really being in the mood to question the rude goblin, Hermione just stood there, waiting for something, anything to happen. Fortunately, she didn't have to wait long.

Her blood which was previously soaked in the stone bubbled back to the surface, covering it with a web of tiny drops and strings. Then it began to reassemble itself, moving all across the panel until it began to form letters, words.

At the top, there was a strange and very intricate coat of arms. The background was formed by the Celtic trinity symbol with a purple shield atop it. In the middle, there was a snow white dove flying above two crossed wands. From both sides it was supported by unicorns standing on their hind legs. The mantling consisted of dark green and blue drapery that coiled around the shield like ivy. It was so detailed, shining with its true colours. The symbols on it were ancient, words written in olde Gaelic which Hermione couldn't understand.

However it was the names that interested her the most. But the goblin wouldn't let her come closer, he was frozen in place, staring at what was shown right in front of his beady eyes.

The creature in front of her began to shake and went terribly pale. Even in the bad light in this chamber Hermione was able to notice the change. She was just about to ask him if he was alright, her anger lessened by her curiosity when he turned to look at her with fright in his eyes.

"I'm so sorry" the goblin stuttered "If I only knew… Please, let me fetch the director!" he stumbled over his words in his hurry to speak quickly. At her confused nod, he flashed out of the room with incredible speed.

Shaking her head at the strange behaviour, Hermione stepped closer to what she suspected was her family tree. It was much larger than the one of the Black family at Grimmauld Place. At the very top, right under the crest, there was a name written in large cursive letters.

_ARCEY_

She had never heard of such a name in all those five years she spent skimming over the books in the Hogwarts library. From the first look, she could tell there were no dates which would help her with finding her own name. So logically, she began to look at the very bottom.

There was a pattern in her family, she soon found out. Always a firstborn son, then a second born daughter. Rarely there were more than two siblings. There were three branches of the Arceys at the very bottom but none of them had her name in it. So she went up and up, not wondering about the strange names she was reading. Three branches became two and then one and still there was no Hermione.

Nevertheless her resolve didn't falter and she went further and further up her family tree. And finally, when she was about half way through, she stumbled upon her name and held her breath.

_HERMIONË CASSIOPEIA ARCEY_

Daughter to Orcus Silvanus Arcey and Calypso Vela Black, sister to Avernus Orcus Arcey.

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><p><strong>AN: Dun, dun, dun... So you know who she is. But it doesn't tell you much, does it? I'm very excited to hear your ideas as to who the Arceys are or why she was able to find her name so far up the family tree... So please tell me your ideas and as always thank you for reading and your lovely comments you left!**

**Please Review :)**


	15. Richmond

**A/N: So one of you had caught on. There is no Dumbledore meddling, just plain simple family machinations... I don't want to spoil it to you so here is another chapter!**

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><p>"Where is our daughter?" a man's voice thundered throughout the stony corridors of one of the many Arcey mansions. The man in question all but ran, the heels of his sturdy dragon hide boots clicking on the tiled floor. His robes were billowing all around his body, creating a scary smoke as if he was Hades reincarnate.<p>

Other occupants of the mansion who had been foolish enough to open their doors and gaze at the raging man were being thrown back into their rooms, doors shut with loud thuds in their faces. His magic could be seen, snakes, angry poisonous snakes coiled around his arms and legs, hissing as they moved around in the air.

There was only one door that had remained unopened throughout his raving and raging. The large carved double door had remained tightly closed, mocking him, irritating the hell out of him. Swishing the wand in his hand idly, the door that obscured his view of the room flew open without a moment of hesitancy.

"Where is our daughter?" he asked again, his anger barely contained by his seemingly calm tone of voice.

"Not here" a feminine voice answered his question. A laboured breathing could be heard, as well as struggling of someone to sit up.

But the man didn't look like he would be helping her anytime soon. Taking a deep breath, he asked her for the third time, now deathly calmly and quietly "Where. Is. Our. Daughter?"

"AS I said, not here" the woman wouldn't let herself be deterred. She did make a deal with the Head of the House Arcey and there was only one stipulation. Her daughter would need to stay alive.

She still couldn't believe she had agreed to the proposition. She had married out of obligation to her family. As a third born she was betrothed before she had even been born. Her father had managed something that no one had ever managed to do before. They betrothed her to an Arcey, a second in succession to the Quintet.

But their relationship was anything but affectionate. Orcus Arcey was a terrifying man, powerful beyond belief, powerful enough for the Quintet to want him dead. She held him in no nonsensical regard.

He had lain with her two times. Once it had been their wedding night, and then it had been as another custom – two months after she gave birth to her first son. And both times she had become pregnant, though that was no surprise – that was what the marriage bonding was for. The rest of their two and a half year long marriage he had spent whoring himself out to any willing woman.

Yes – it was disgusting, yes – it was humiliating but no – she would never do anything about it. She was born a woman and she knew what was expected of her. She was to bear him children and she was to listen to him and the Head of her House, in her case, Heads of her Houses. And both Thanatos Arcey and Acrux Black had decided that enough was enough.

Orcus had brought enough shame and debt to his personal vaults that both men had decided that it could not continue this way. He broke deals that were hundred years old, he had angered the king of the British Isles not to mention he had managed to somehow enrage almost all of the Scottish clans. The 'boy' was nothing but a catastrophe.

Personally, Thanatos Arcey blamed himself for allowing his son to marry that Saxon chit. She was nothing but a whore, he had known, but the customs in his family forbade him to betroth his firstborn son. What enraged him even more was that his own son had then broken this custom and had chosen a wife for his son. Though he had agreed with the choice – Black would make a superb wife, it was the principle that had been broken and he would never forget that. With his only daughter, there had been no issue. She had married a respectful wizard settled in Wales and was happily married and with children.

He had hoped that after Calypso came into her condition and gave him a son, his grandson would calm down. But that hadn't been the case.

He had been there personally, just last week after she had been born, to see his great-granddaughter and realised he couldn't let the sweet little girl grow up in such a madhouse.

He made the decision and ordered Calypso to send her away to her Black relatives. And then he made her agree to kill her husband. She had seemed overly eager and he couldn't blame her. He had promised he would take her in as soon as the deed was done and the young woman craved nothing more than a little peace of mind.

Both the clans and the King practically gave him an ultimatum – either Orcus died or they would wage war on the Quintet, and that was something he neither liked nor would he ever allow. So a deal was made.

And that's where Calypso was now, sitting on her bed, still exhausted from the huge amount of magic she had done just hours ago. It surprised her – the reaction Orcus had to the disappearance of his daughter. But there were things that needed to be done and she needed to hurry up.

"Answer me woman!" he shouted at her and strode towards her bed.

"I sent her away, to my father's mansion in Richmond" she said calmly, already reconciled with her fate. She wasn't stupid or naïve enough to believe all the things Thanatos had told her. Her wows were binding, if one was the end of the other, the one was the end of themselves ergo she kills him, she dies. But there was nothing more inviting to her than death.

As soon as those words left her mouth, the man that was her husband turned around wanting to apparate away but she had been quicker, casting anti-apparition wards and stupefying him. She was too weak to stand up so she just look at him as he stood there, frozen to the spot.

"Even if you went there, you wouldn't be able to find her." As perplexing as that sentence sounded to him, to her it made perfect sense. "I send her somewhere safe, somewhere where she wouldn't be bothered by your pawns." She muttered to herself. She had notified certain people so they would know about her existence were they to come across her daughter. But she would never see her again, nor would anyone from her living family. She had no idea how far had the spell taken her, but she hoped it was far enough.

Far enough for her daughter to become the most powerful with to ever walk the earth.

"I'm sorry" she whispered as she pointed her wand at her husband and slashing the piece of wood in the air, she uttered the only two words she had ever feared.

"Avada Kedavra"

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><p>"Miss Arcey" the goblin said upon entering "I think it would be best if you would follow me to my office. With your permission I would let Mr Lupin and Mrs Tonks know that you will stay here a bit longer."<p>

Hermione only nodded her head, thinking it better to just go with the flow and think things through rather than say something hastily and then regret it later.

Instead of walking on foot the both of them went towards a nearby fireplace. "Say the numbers 347, Miss Arcey"

Not wanting to be the victim of some funny goblin joke, she motioned with her hand for the goblin to go first. Surprising her, he tossed a handful of floo powder into the fireplace and stepping into the emerald flames he shouted "347" and disappeared soon after.

Shaking her head in disbelief at what she was about to do, she flooed to the unknown destination.


	16. Head of House

_Power is domination, control, and therefore a very selective form of truth which is a lie._

_- Wole Soynika_

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><p>Travelling by floo was never her favourite magical form of transportation. It always made her head spin and her insides feel like they were being pushed through a teeny tiny tube. Even falling freefall on her broom was a more comfortable feeling than travelling by floo.<p>

Fortunately for Hermione this particular trip through the floo network wasn't long enough for her to become sick. She didn't even manage to count to five and all of a sudden, gentle yet slightly unpleasant hands helped her get out of the fireplace.

Forgoing the rule that kept a wizard or a witch from using their wands at Gringotts, she swiftly vanished any soot that attached itself to her coat. Seeing an empty chair across yet another office table, she sat down without any prompt from the goblin who had rushed her into his office. She presumed he was the director of Gringotts but by now she didn't really care anymore.

"Master Goblin, we very well may stare at each other for the rest of the day but know that my patience isn't where it was this morning when it comes to you and your… colleagues" Hermione said without any inhibitions whatsoever. She really wanted to go home, or whenever her home was right now and forget all about this Gringotts business. Even though she knew that she would need to learn about the powers and requirements of being a Head of House, she allowed herself a moment of childish sulking.

"Of course Miss Arcey, let us proceed then" the goblin said in a subdued tone that made Hermione suspicious at once.

"Why do you insist on calling me Miss Arcey?" she asked him, looking him straight in the eye. His eyes were different from the clerk she had spoken to before in the 'Inheritance' chamber. This one's eyes were a tad warmer and welcoming than the others' but she could sense the urgency and pure fierceness that wasn't in Master Budoc's expression.

"Because it is your name Miss Arcey and it will be so from now on, only changing were you to marry. Of course, when you have sons, the firstborn will bear the name of your husband while the other carries on with the Arcey line – that is the usual proceeding if a female is the last of her line." The director enlightened her though he had no way of knowing that precisely these words hurt Hermione the most.

There were no children for her, no family, and no husband in the future. That had all ended with Bellatrix cursing her Sirius through the Veil. Yes, her Sirius, for he belonged to her as much as she did to him.

Though her only reaction consisted of her balling her hands into tight fists, the Director sensed that this topic wasn't precisely the one he would wish to continue. "The Ministry of Magic, will not be notified unless you think it necessary…" he went on, this time speaking about something that was far more… appropriate.

"No, I don't think that I will be informing the Ministry of this – development." She was still surprised that Rita Skeeter didn't manage to post some ridiculous article about her and her orphan-hood in the even more absurd Daily Prophet. Even though Hermione was aware of the fact that if the Ministry knew she was no muggle-born, there might be certain let's say advantages; though she wouldn't be foolish enough to hand them this knowledge on a silver platter.

She would be called a blood-traitor, she would be scorned and there was a high possibility that she would be sought out in order to spy on Harry Potter, Dumbledore and well – the whole Order of the Phoenix. This notion was simply ludicrous, nevertheless, how could the Deatheaters know for sure that she wouldn't betray Harry? Simple, they could not. However this brought her to her next point.

"Who were – are the Arceys?" Hermione asked curiously, wanting to know something about her own family.

"They managed to keep their identity secret I see…." The goblin murmured to himself but then remember that he wasn't alone and started to explain.

"In the beginning, there were five families which called themselves the Quintet. They consisted of the Black's, Darwin's, Peverell's, Godwin's and lastly the Arcey's. The Arcey family was the oldest and most powerful of them all. Then came the Blacks and then the rest."

"So the Arceys are …" "- purebloods, yes Miss" the goblin finished the sentence for her. Hermione didn't care for the blood difference. It sounded too much like dog breeding to her. But she couldn't fail to see the advantage to being the last one of the oldest magical family there is.

However, only now did it become strange to her that the goblin was treating her with so much humility. "My… family, how were they of import to the wizarding world?" she asked him quietly, letting herself form the words carefully.

"The whole family was slaughtered by Grindelwald because of their influence" the goblin supplied an answer quickly, though it wasn't what she had expected.

It had answered her question as to how important they were. If they were simple nobody, one of the darkest Wizards in the history wouldn't make it his point to erase their entire existence off the surface of the earth. But the whole Grindelwald uprising had been in the nineteen forties. The math didn't add up, she should have been the age of McGonagall or slightly younger!

"I'm sorry Master – "only now did she realise she didn't know his name which was quite the embarrassment to the young witch. "Oh forgive me for not introducing myself. My name is Brodrog, the director of Gringotts" he said with a bow of his head.

"Nice to meet you Master Brodrog" Hermione said, not forgetting the polite nod as well and continued with what she began to say earlier "Master Brodrog, forgive me but I think there must be something you have left out. Either the entire family hadn't been slaughtered by Grindelwald in the 40's or the test was wrong" she knew that supposing that the inheritance test was incorrect was foolish but she wasn't able to find a suitable explanation.

"I assure you, Miss Arcey, the test was not wrong. You are indeed the daughter of Orcus Arcey and Calypso Black. You should also know that with magic, nothing is impossible" Brodrog said mysteriously which bugged Hermione to no end.

"You have me confused, director" she said directly. She really wasn't able to understand what the goblin kept on saying.

"Perhaps I should tell you that Orcus and Calypso Arcey died in 485 A.C." he said and awaited her reaction with baited breath.

'485 A.C.! Do I really look that stupid?' Hermione asked herself as she stared at the creature sitting across from her. Somehow she managed to keep her blank expression and didn't show any of the confusion she was feeling at the moment.

Taking a deep breath she started to speak very clearly, enunciating each syllable soundly "So let me get this clear, you claim that I had been born- " she quickly counted the years in her head and continued "about fifteen hundred years in the past?"

"Yes" he answered curtly.

"I see…" Hermione said, rubbing her tired eyes. She really hated this muted light.

There would be other time for her to ponder this absurdity so she pushed all her other annoying questions aside and decided to concentrate on other matters.

"I would like to keep this as quiet as possible. With Voldemort on one side and Dumbledore on the other, I'm not really sure how people would react. Could you please tell me more about the Quintet?"

"Of course Miss… The Quintet could be seen as the governing families of the Magical World. Everyone respected them and agreed with them most of the time. Though we goblins do not know much about what the Quintet did, we know that people who felt aggrieved by the Quintet formed the Wizards' Council. Sure you know how much good that had done" Brodrog concluded in a sarcastic tone.

"In late eleventh century, the Eadwig's and Bones's joined them and created a Septet. The first family that died out were the Peverell's which were then replaced by the Potter's, then came Godwin's however this time the family didn't get replaced. The same went for Eadwig's. The Darwin's became Greengrass's and the rest is the same. The Septet became Quintet again."

"Forgive my asking, but how do _you_ know all this?" Hermione certainly didn't want to offend the goblin by saying he had no business knowing about such wizarding - she couldn't find a better word than organisation.

"I'm almost two hundred years old and I was there when the last bond between the Quintet – at that time Quartet got signed." He didn't seem the least offended so Hermione continued her interrogation.

"Quartet?"

"Yes, in the late sixties, before the terror of the Dark Lord Voldemort, the last bond between the newest Heads of their Houses was signed. Algar Potter in place of the Peverells, Pollux Black, Walter Bones and Irvin Greengrass in place of the Darwin's." the goblin enumerated the families and Hermione blanched a bit at hearing the name of Sirius's grandfather. She really needed to understand what this whole Quintet business was about. But not now.

She was growing irritated at the amount of things she would need to find out. Her time jump, the Quintet, Septet, Wizards' Council…

"Is there any business I need to attend to?" Hermione asked the goblin, hoping that the answer would be negative. But unfortunately for her, that was not to be.

"Yes, firstly, you need to receive your Head of House insignia" and with that, he opened a small wooden box and took out a pair of rose gold bracelets – one set with black diamonds and emeralds, the other with white mine brilliants with yellow diamonds as a centre. Simply put, they were stunning.

"The one with the black diamonds belongs to the House of Black and the other to the House of Arcey. It is a custom for the female Head of House to wear these since the family rings can be worn only by males." As he was explaining this, he handed them to her and she gently put them on her wrist, where they magically bound themselves together.

Surprisingly, it created a very nice combination. The bracelet wasn't even an inch in width and was by no means heavy, the opposite really…

"These are your seals" he handed her yet another bracelet. This one was of goblin silver with a small badge in the middle which upon further inspection showed the combination of the Black and Arcey coat of arms. Shaking her head at the obscenity of the jewellery currently on her wrist, she felt the pendant cooling her bare skin.

This was all because of Sirius and she couldn't make herself blame him. Realising that she was in a world on her own, the goblin took out some paperwork for her to read later and left her to her thoughts.

"Do I own a place where I could stay?" Hermione asked out of the blue.

"Of course Miss Arcey. You own the Arcey ancestral castle and several other mansions, then there is the Black ancestral Leeds castle and also a mansion in Yorkshire that comes with the Black name. The last is an Arcey townhouse in London, Kensington Palace Gardens I believe"

In the end Hermione wasn't sure how it was possible that her eyes managed to stay well – in her head. That was a lot of place to pick from. How was it possible to own so much?

"Does my – ehm – family own any business?" Hermione asked, still slightly unused to the term 'my family'.

Handing her a large leather folder he explained "Here's all that you need to know about the Black and Arcey family business. In short, the Arcey money comes from wand-crafting and Black business is rather about stock market."

'Well, that wasn't very enlightening' Hermione thought as she looked at the large folder with worry. She didn't really want to dwell into business plans, risks and charts or whatever but it seemed as necessary evil.

"Is there anything else that needs to be done _today_?" Hermione asked impatiently, wanting to get out of this bank as soon as possible.

"No, this will be all Miss Arcey" the director told her with a nod of his head.

Cheering on the inside Hermione stood up, already ready to leave when she remembered that she had wanted the goblins to tell Andromeda and Remus that she would stay longer than she had expected. "Do you know whether Mrs Tonks and Mr Lupin stayed or not?" she asked him.

"Mr Lupin said he needed to attend to some business of his, nevertheless Mrs Tonks is waiting for you in the Grand Hall." The goblin answered her in a dismissive tone.

"It was a pleasure meeting you, Master Brodrog" Hermione said her goodbye politely, not forgetting that the goblins were rather sensitive when it came to the manners of wizards and witches.

"Goodbye Miss Arcey" the director parted with her, a small almost imperceptible smile playing on his lips. "Just go straight ahead and you will find yourself in the Grand Hall" he advised her politely.

"Thank you" she said quietly and as he had said, she arrived in the Grand Hall in less than a minute. However, she pretended she didn't hear the enraged yell of Brodrog as he called for Budoc. After all, it was none of her business.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: And here it is, we're at the end of her dealings with the snarky Goblins. What do you think about it? What do you wish to know about the Quintet and her responsibilities as the new Head of two Houses?**

**Thank you so much for reading and please REVIEW! :))**


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